Mary Had a Little Problem

Mary Had a Little Problem By Destiny Blaine

Resplendence Publishing, LLC http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC 2665 S Atlantic Avenue, #349 Daytona Beach, FL 32118

Mary Had a Little Problem Copyright © 2011 Destiny Blaine Edited by Corrie Blackmon and Venus Cahill Cover art by Les Byerley, www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-371-3

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic Release: August, 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

Once again, I dedicate this novella to Corrie, my Resplendence editor. Thank you so much for being such a conscientious editor. I appreciate and treasure your advice and thank you for your patience. It’s been a pleasure working with you. I will miss you.

Prologue

Mourning the death of her husband began at the sound of the first shots fired. For some reason, up until then, Mary kept thinking she’d awaken and discover she’d been having another nightmare. Instead, reality set in and delivered its final blow. The ceremony in progress jolted her back to the present with a new understanding. She was attending her husband’s memorial. Luke was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Mary had somehow remained stoic throughout the service, fearing if she looked up, turned to her left, or glanced right, she might meet a stranger’s gaze. She refused to lock eyes with those in attendance, realizing their hearts were full of pity. Many of them knew Luke. Some of them had fought beside him. Others were there to pay their respects to a fallen soldier, but they didn’t know the man behind the uniform, the husband behind the Navy’s finest SEAL. There was another powerful blast, and the jarring sensation came with a deafening and most eerie sound of a three-round volley. The air was thick with tension. Those in attendance jerked with every shot resounding through the hills. Mary’s tears finally came, flooding her cheeks until the rapid falls ran dry. It was then when Mary understood a truer meaning of taps. This was the end, the most monumental signal of all. It was time to turn out the lights and go home. The final seconds in the last hour approached. Now, she was expected to accept the fact that her happily-ever-after ending wasn’t meant to be. Mary needed to find a way to come to terms with the facts. Her husband was dead. She couldn’t bring him back.

Lieutenant Lucas Worthington once spoke of a soldier’s death, an honorable death, the kind of burial all soldiers hoped they’d find. If Mary had been given one last chance to talk with Luke, she would’ve told him that this death wasn’t a clean death, as he’d once discussed. This casualty, no one understood. Luke should’ve been careful what he wished for, and Mary should’ve selected a husband more wisely, refused to fall in love with a man destined to die. Mary gave her heart to a Navy SEAL. He, in turn, fell in love with the notion that freedom was won, honor easily earned, and death only came to those who were fighting for the wrong side. Mary wished for one last opportunity to tell Luke her point of view on the subject now, perhaps show him the error of his ways, and explain devastation in a simple woman’s terms. At that moment, she wanted her husband to know how she felt. She longed to explain her agony. But it was too late for that, and she wasn’t sure she could put her sorrow into words. Still, Mary longed to see Luke one last time. She would’ve given her final breath if she could’ve held something substantial in her arms, perhaps something to show her, help her grasp the idea that the love she’d cherished was lost. The man she’d worshipped was gone, and his funeral was anything but a bad dream. Her life had turned into a nightmare. Without a body to bury, Mary had a feeling she’d never awaken from the hellish world that had somehow become her horrific reality.

Chapter One

Luke had been gone for six months, not even a year. Why Mary was sitting on a barstool listening to a bunch of drunks boast about women they’d pursued, enjoyed, or borrowed, was the million dollar question. She’d heard enough and was about ready to leave when the door slammed behind her. She turned to see her sister prance across the floor, working those hips and practically stepping high enough to slide her feet out of her expensive pair of high-heel shoes. Snapping a kiss on her cheek, Mary said, “Nice of you to make it.” “Sorry, hon. I got caught at the office,” she said, stripping off her business jacket. “It’s a buyer’s market out there, and right now, I can’t afford to let a potential sale get away. We have more houses on the market than we’ve had in three decades.” Mary shrugged. She knew nothing about the current housing market and cared very little about real estate sales. She’d grown up around the business, listening to agent babble all her life. The only thing she knew with absolute certainty was that her mother and father spent their lives rushing here and going there for one client or the next. Eventually, the job interrupted their marriage. More precisely, their careers destroyed her family. Her father just came in one day, packed his bags, kissed them goodbye, and they never heard from him again. Mary used to imagine her father as a traveling salesman, going from town to town in order to sell homes across the United States. After she matured and realized her father was never coming home, she’d often wondered if she remembered everything there was to recall about the man she wanted desperately to understand. After she became a teenager, Mary sometimes imagined her father must have pissed off a contractor, who in turn, killed him. He’d been buried under a concrete slab, a solid foundation for a home he somehow failed to sell on speculation.

It was a morbid thought, but not as gloomy as believing her father just didn’t give a damn. “I’m starving,” Anna said, reaching for a menu. “We could’ve gone anywhere in Beaufort, but you chose a military hot spot. Why?” After Anna reassembled the salt and pepper shakers, she knocked over in her pursuit for the drink list, she said, “I like Frank’s burgers.” “Frank?” Anna tilted her head toward the old guy behind the grill. “And they’re having karaoke tonight.” “You’re singing?” “She always sings,” Frank said, approaching them. “You must be Mary. Anna has told me a lot about you.” “I hope she told you a few truths to go along with whatever fibs she’s pitching.” “All we’ve heard here is what a pretty sister she has.” “See there?” Mary said, grinning at her older sibling. “I can’t turn my back on her. I swear, the girl whispers tall tales whenever she has the chance.” “I don’t know about that,” a soldier said. Dressed in civilian clothes, but every ounce of hard flesh screaming soldier, the newcomer slapped a handful of cash on the bar. “From my own assessment, looks to me like the girl spoke nothing but the truth.” Mary’s skin heated. A lump lodged in her chest. She cleared her throat and looked at Anna who seemed all too pleased her sister had just been hit on by a military guy. “Thank you,” Mary whispered, shooting Anna a sideways glance. What was it about Anna? She constantly tried to set her up with a man ready to fight—and die—for his country. There wasn’t any doubt in Mary’s mind—Anna knew this soldier. They kept making eye contact and arching their brows at one another. Soon, they’d be whispering behind cupped hands and passing notes back and forth on bar napkins. “What can I get you ladies tonight?” Frank asked. “Put their drinks on me,” the big guy said, nodding toward the scattered bills. “Do you know him?” Mary asked, lowering her voice and watching as the soldier shook hands with a few fellows at the end of the bar.

Anna grinned, stuffed a handful of peanuts in her mouth, and chewed. “Frank, set us up with two margaritas.” “You got it.” “Well, do you or don’t you?” “Sure I know him,” Anna replied around a jaw filled with nuts. After she took a swig of water, she called out, “Brock, if you’re gonna buy us drinks, the least you can do is get over here and meet my sister like a proper gentleman.” “I wasn’t sure you would formally introduce us,” Brock said, working that strut for all it was worth. Since Luke’s death, Mary had avoided men like Brock. Anna couldn’t get enough of them. “You have a point. A smarter woman might keep you all to herself,” Anna quipped, pushing her long auburn locks over her shoulders. “But since you’re buying drinks, Mary, meet Brock Taylor. Brock, this is Mary Worthington, my little sister.” Brock’s dimples widened, and Mary wanted to sink back into the hole where she’d been hiding and stay there forever. Without a doubt, Brock and Anna were close friends. They were too comfortable around one another. Then again, Anna was confident with all men. A trait Mary possessed too, before Luke. Mary could almost see Anna’s wheels turning. She was plotting, planning. Heck, she probably pictured her in an off-white wedding gown marching through a sword-drawn Sabre Arch by now. “Give the guy a chance,” Anna whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Brock didn’t look like he had any trouble finding opportunities. If Mary had him pegged, he saw her as another notch on his belt, one more conquest to explore. Anna had most likely told this guy about the hard times she’d fallen upon since her husband’s death. But that was the least of her worries. Mary didn’t appreciate the way Brock studied her. She didn’t like how her body reacted under his scrutiny. Her palms were clammy. Her knees knocked together. Worse, every nerve ending in her body seemed to come alive with a tiny spark of knowledge. She was keenly aware of this guy, this handsome stranger. The night out with Anna was not going well by any stretch of the imagination.

Brock owned an easy swagger when he strolled over and took her hand in his. Midnight blue eyes pierced through hers, and they seemed to warm her, console her in some way. He winked and smoothly said, “Mary, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard enough about you to consider us old friends.” She wished she could say the same. Clearing her throat, she mentally cursed herself for becoming putty in his presence. “Nice to meet you, too,” she finally managed, though she didn’t mean a word of it. Mary didn’t want to become acquainted with another military man, a soldier with rugged appeal, a sensational smile, and soothing touch. This Brock guy was handsome, sexy, and far too dangerous. Anna’s matchmaking was uninvited and came too soon. Mary didn’t want to respond to a man the way she’d just reacted to Brock, especially after such a short introduction. She made a mental note to give Anna a piece of her mind later. A smarter woman would’ve stood up and left without saying goodbye. “Do you sing?” Brock asked, turning up a beer. His hot gaze poured over her like melted margarine, sliding from side to side with no direction, but leaving behind plenty of sizzle all the same. “Me? Carry a tune?” “Why sure,” he sang, rolling a thick tongue over his bottom lip. Mary silently prayed she hadn’t sighed as she’d watched the whole act unfold. Lord have mercy, she was acting like a woman in heat. “No. I’m not the entertainer in the family, per se.” “Anna here is our local vocal darling,” Brock explained. “She wears the microphone out up there. You don’t expect me to believe one sister has all the talent and the other has all the beauty, do you?” “Thanks, Brock,” Anna grumbled. “Don’t mention it.” “So Anna is a regular here?” Mary asked. “Imagine that. She couldn’t sing a lick back in high school chorus.” “A crowd gathers when she takes the stage,” Frank said, setting two drinks before them.

“Still can’t hit the high notes,” Anna remarked. “But they never know the difference. I always take the stage late. By the time I’m up there, it’s almost last call. Everyone in the place swears I’m as good as Elvis.” “Do they?” Brock laughed. “She can wiggle like the King of Rock-n-Roll. That’s all anyone here cares about by the time the clock strikes three.” “I’m sure that’s true,” Mary said, taking a sip of her drink. For a split second, Mary relaxed. She was even having a good time. Brock wasn’t as intimidating as she’d first thought, so she settled down, leaned against the wooden high-back stool, and made herself comfortable. That’s when she caught a glimpse of Tom Tolsen, a Casualty Assistance Calls Officer with the Navy. Tom was also the man who’d delivered the news of her late husband’s death. He’d provided resources and assistance. He’d passed along useless information, the kind of data the military allowed him to share. Tom hadn’t supplied a body. He never relayed the Intel a widow needed most. Mary still didn’t know how or why her husband died. The day Tom visited her home, he’d remained true to his uniform and passed along the information the military wanted her to have. He gave her nothing more. His words were practiced, fully rehearsed. His speech was short and direct, straight to the point. Mary’s husband was dead. The military was sorry for her loss. There was nothing more they could tell her. Grief counseling was available and recommended. That was it. That was all. She was a widow and expected to accept the fact. Anna and Brock must’ve spotted Tom, too. Brock locked eyes with the officer, shook his head firmly, and then swung his sharp gaze toward Mary. Tom turned to leave. Mary grabbed her purse. “Tom, wait!” She glared at Brock. Just who did he think he was? Why was he trying to get Tom out of there? Who died and left him in charge? She gasped at that. “Tom, please!” Mary leapt from the stool and trailed behind him. “I need to talk to you!” “Mary, stop,” Anna said, grabbing for her arm.

“I just want to say hello. I’ll be right back,” Mary assured her, shaking off her sister’s grip. Tom had just stepped outside when Mary rushed to the sidewalk, trying to stop him. “Didn’t you see me over at the bar?” Tom squared his shoulders and dropped his gaze. “I saw you.” “Then why didn’t you come over and say hello?” “You know why, Mary.” Mary swallowed. Oh sure, she forgot. How stupid of her. She understood protocol enough to realize Tom was trying to show her some measure of respect by avoiding her. Apparently, the word was out. Mary had become a recluse since her husband’s death. Immediately following his funeral, she was certifiable. Maybe that’s why Tom didn’t want to be around her. Perhaps he thought she blamed him. She did to an extent. As ridiculous as that seemed, she couldn’t help herself. The day he’d visited her home, she’d opened up her door and greeted the man destined to ruin her life. “Mary, I know what I represent. It’s hard for us to run into one another without you remembering the reason why we were first introduced. That’s understandable.” “We could still be friends, Tom. I mean, I don’t want you to run from me whenever you see me.” “Mary, you and I have nothing left to say to one another. I’ve supplied the resources you need. I suggested some counseling. Have you talked to anyone?” “I don’t want to talk to anyone!” she yelled, immediately ashamed of herself for the outburst. “I need to talk to you.” Tom looked at her with pure pity oozing from his eyes. “Give my best to your sister and Brock.” “Tom! I just want to know something more! Don’t you understand? Do you know what kind of hell this has been? Do you?” She followed him down the city street, but he wouldn’t turn around. They passed a few soldiers, several officers, but no one looked her in the eye. When you find yourself in a hole, stop digging. Mary’s mother’s words stopped her from pursuing the officer. Then again, her mother had been the most foolish of all wise women. She

never chased a man, and to Mary’s knowledge, never longed for the things she could not have. She lived with the facts, no matter how grim, and made the most out of a bad situation. Accepting the things the military refused to change was where Mary had a problem. The Navy took her husband away, and by God, she still believed they could bring him back! Tears burned the corners of Mary’s eyes. She covered her mouth and stood there watching Tom walk away. She could follow him of course, chase him down, and beat the everlovin’ holy hell out of him, but it wouldn’t change things. What did Mary expect anyway? Tom wouldn’t retract his statement. He wouldn’t miraculously present evidence to the contrary or in support of Luke’s death. Believing the entire night was set to become a great disaster, Mary glanced over her shoulder. Two people had trailed her from the pub. She looked at her sister, noting how her expression mirrored, perhaps, her own pain. Brock looked concerned, too, even though they’d only just met. There was something about the way Brock stared at her then that gave her courage, somehow inspired her to press forward. Rather than give up, Mary stalked Tom again, in spite of her earlier decision to leave him alone. “Lieutenant! Don’t you turn your back on me!” He kept walking. His pace and the way he carried himself reminded her of a deliberate military march. “Lieutenant, I’m talking to you!” Mary cried out. “Damn it to hell! How would you feel?” He faced her. Stark determination washed across his face. “I don’t know how you feel, Mrs. Worthington. I never pretended to understand a loss of this magnitude. I’ve offered you counseling, supplied you with information—” “Don’t you dare hide behind your training to pacify me. I don’t care about the resources for widows and bereaved families. I don’t want your apologies and your excuses. I need to know what happened to my husband! If you were in my shoes, wouldn’t you want to know what happened to your loved one?” “Your husband was a decorated Navy SEAL, Mrs. Worthington. You should be proud of the way he served his country.” Mary clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She was getting nowhere, fast. “Have you ever loved someone?”

“Of course I have,” he spat, his restraint coming apart. “Then can’t you try and understand why I’m so distraught?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “Luke was my rock, my inner strength, and now he’s become my greatest weakness,” soft cries interrupted her as she spoke. She became more aware of the way his death impacted her life as she talked about his demise. “He was the man I loved and would’ve been the father of my children. Can’t you see? You took everything from me!” “Mrs. Worthington—Mary—please go home. Take a moment to go through the materials provided to you upon your husband’s death. Seek professional help. The answers you need are unavailable to you, and that’s just the way it is. Whatever it is you think I can supply will never be provided. You will never access your husband’s closed file. Are we clear?” Mary gulped, trying to regain her senses. She shook her head, sniffed, and then wiped her cheeks. She was a t-total mess, but then something hit her square in the face. She thought of Tom’s most recent words and somehow managed to pull herself together. “What did you just say?” “Too much,” Tom Tolsen snapped, narrowing his cold liquid silver gaze. “Good day, Mrs. Worthington.” “Tom! Wait! Just give me another moment. Can’t you see what kind of pain I’m in? Can’t you give me something else?” she wailed, yanking his sleeve as she pleaded with him. “You know what happened to my husband! Damn it, Tom! You look at me!” She practically ran alongside him, trying to keep his pace. “Maybe you weren’t there when he died. I’m sure you weren’t…but you’ve read his files. You’ve seen what it is the military doesn’t want me to know!” “On behalf of the—” “Don’t you start with the same damn spiel you gave me the day you stepped into my home and tore my world apart!” “Mary! That’s enough!” Anna yelled from behind her. The clickety-click of high heels beat against the sidewalk as Anna hurriedly tried to catch up with them. Mary wasn’t stopping now. Tom had said too much, supplied something—hope, some measure of reassurance, perhaps—but it was much more than what he’d given her in the past.

He continued rambling as he walked, quietly reciting the same speech he must’ve repeated over and over again as he met one widow after another. Approaching his vehicle, he finished with a firm, “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Worthington.” “You’re sorry,” Mary said, slapping her hand over his wrist before he opened the car door and disappeared out of reach. “You’re sorry? Lieutenant Tolsen, I’ve had enough apologies to carry me through this sorry life, and I’m here to tell you those words will never comfort me at night. “Regrets don’t ease my pain. I don’t know for certain that the husband I loved and married really isn’t out there somewhere. You didn’t even bring me his body! You just showed up on my doorstep and told me he was dead. Then, you directed me to some fiasco where you assured me I’d find support, reminding me that my husband gave his life up for a damn good cause!” “Mary! Dear God, that’s enough!” Anna screamed. Fury spun through Mary’s veins. Any compassion she wanted to feel for Tom was long gone. Yes, he was only doing his job. True, he’d been kind and compassionate, more so than most of the other Casualty Assistance Calls Officers, but that didn’t matter now. Tom knew something more, and he wasn’t telling her. What kind of man kept another man from his wife? What kind of monster was this Tom Tolsen character, and what kind of country had her husband served? She shook off that thought. She was a proud American. She just didn’t agree with the military policies concerning bereavement issues. Tom took a deep breath. “Mary, your husband is not coming back. The man you loved and married is gone. You have to accept that.” “Then why didn’t I see a body?” she asked, shoving him. “Why didn’t you tell me where or how he died? What kind of people do you represent if you can’t look a soldier’s wife in the eyes and tell her some measure of truth when she loses the only man she’s ever loved!” “Please, Mary! Stop this!” Anna intervened right as Mary drew her fists tightly together. She might have struck Tom if it hadn’t been for Anna stepping between them. She’d had time to think about the way Tom delivered the news that most definitely changed her life, and she wanted to grab his attention. Unfortunately, Anna did a better job there.

Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her sister, and it was the first time Mary could recall seeing Anna blush. Funny how she noticed that in the midst of her anger. “Tom, this has been a tough time,” Anna explained. “You’ll have to overlook Mary. She hasn’t come to terms with Luke’s death.” “Don’t you apologize for me!” “No need to explain. I understand,” Tom said, talking around her. “Do you think any of this is fair, Lieutenant? I mean, I had nothing returned to me, nothing at all. Is that the thanks my husband received for serving his country?” Tom kept a blank expression, and Mary saw right then, she’d hit another brick wall. Tom couldn’t give her what she needed most. “I had the world at my feet, a man who loved me with everything he had to give, and now what do I have? Nothing, and that’s all. Don’t you see? I just want peace. Is that too much to ask? I need closure!” Tom kept a stiff upper lip, said his farewells, saluted a soldier in passing, and disappeared inside his Humvee. Mary watched Tom’s taillights until the military vehicle rounded an old mercantile building, driving out of sight. Mary took a deep breath. The tears staining her cheeks had long since dried. Anna’s lips thinned, and she stormed back inside. Apparently, her sister knew better than to pick a fight. The noisy bar was alive with activity now. The last thing Mary wanted to do was return to her barstool and act as if she were enjoying herself. Pretending she was having the time of her life would be like faking an orgasm. What was the point? She wouldn’t get anything out of it. Mary stared down the street. She wanted simple answers, and Tom Tolsen had what she needed most in the world, but the questions were too difficult for Tom to acknowledge. Tom knew the harrowing truth. He had sealed documents, the kind of information a widow needed in order to move forward. Without the military’s closed files, Mary wasn’t able to leave the past behind. “It’s his job, Mary. He’s only doing what he’s been instructed to do,” Brock said gently. “What do you know about what he does?” she asked without looking at the man behind her. Brock placed his hands on her shoulders and forced her to face him, and the gesture alone sent her reeling. A stranger wasn’t allowed to touch her. Before she cursed him aloud, he said, “I

know the military couldn’t pay me enough to do what that man does. Tom deals with death, Mary. He’s only permitted to share limited information. “You see him as the devil, the bearer of bad news. And you’re right. Tom Tolsen takes lives. He rips away dreams and destroys families. He’s death walking. When a woman or man sees Tom coming their way, they shout, they scream, they cry, and some of them fight, refusing to believe death—Tom—has finally knocked on their door. “No, I wouldn’t have his job, Mary. See, I’m not sure I could’ve walked in your house, given you the short details of your husband’s death, watched you mourn as you tried to grasp the magnitude of your loss, and then left you behind. I wouldn’t be able to do what Tom does.” That difficult lump in Mary’s throat returned. The lodging sensation threatened to choke her as she looked into the dark eyes before her. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm toward the pub. She shook her head, coming to terms with the public fit she’d thrown. “No, I uh…I should go.” “That’s your choice, of course,” Brock said. “But I’d like to buy you and your sister dinner and drinks. I’d like to see you smile, maybe listen to your story, and get to know you. If now isn’t a good time, I’ll be around. Anna knows how to get in touch with me.” Brock walked backed to the pub entrance and held open the door, propping his wide back against the center beveled glass. Mary stared at him for a moment then softly said, “I need to go.” “No you don’t. That’s what you don’t quite get. You don’t have to do anything anymore. You don’t have to move where the military sends you. You don’t have to act a certain way because you’re a soldier’s wife. You don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to do. And if you don’t want to go back inside, you don’t have to do that either, but you don’t need to go home alone, Mary. “If you do, that’s your choice, but it’s because you choose to sit in that house by yourself, and you reach the decision that you prefer to be alone. Unfortunately, if that’s the path you take, life is passing you by, and those you shut out are missing a great opportunity to spend time with a lovely young woman.” Mary studied the brute in front of her. He was the type of man she imagined most men feared, and for good reason. Brock was exactly the kind of man her husband had once been—

rough stock. He was a bear of a man. Most fellows were too smart to shake or rattle someone like Brock for fear they’d be unable to contain the beast they might awaken, the special ops enforcer few men, or women, challenged. Oh sure, Brock was handsome, sexy, and probably a true rebel, too. Still, Mary knew this type well. She’d married someone like him. She and Luke had countless friends that fit Brock’s MO. They all carried themselves a certain way. They possessed cold eyes, an assassin’s demeanor, and a passion for their careers unlike any other. Men like Brock took what they wanted. They didn’t use the power of persuasion. It was a waste of time, and in the end, those they encountered understood they were up against an unshakeable force when they came face to face with a man of this stature. Brock was, without a doubt, the best of special ops, a soldier who had a bite far worse than his bark, one of those smooth operators who snuck up on the unsuspecting in the dead of night. He was a killer. That much she knew. He hunted the enemy, preyed on the unsuspecting, and got in bed with US adversaries so when they turned their back to him, he could assassinate the men or women he was hired to eliminate. Yes, Mary knew plenty about Brock. Her Luke was just like him. The military coveted men like Brock, trained them for jobs no one else wanted. Then, they turned them out to sea. They left them to fend for themselves if they had the misfortune to end up on a tour that went south with a final destination no one knew about, no one except those on the same classified mission. And those fellows were unapproachable, too. “You’re a SEAL, aren’t you?” she asked, realizing she zoned out as she stared at this stranger. “No,” he answered her, taking a step inside. Mary glared at his broad back as she eased inside the pub. She refused to follow the man who tempted her, the first person who’d turned her head for longer than a second since her husband’s death. Her curiosity made her feel like a traitor then. Brock joined Anna at the bar, and they started talking, acting as if she wasn’t standing there behind them. He glanced up and held her in his focus, checking her out in one of the mirrored shelves housing bottles of alcohol behind the bar.

He wasn’t a SEAL? That left the Marine Force’s Recon, also known as the bad asses of the military. Brock fit the bill. He didn’t smile. He didn’t wink. He just looked at her, watched her as if he understood her heartache and believed he alone could somehow wash all the agony away. A soldier came in and spoke to her in passing. Brock flinched. The tight line of a set jaw was visible before he slid away from his chair. “Mary? We’re waiting to order.” Assumptive—that’s what he was, and all assholes had that in common. She’d learned to cope with the male ego long ago. She also knew better than to cross ties with men like Brock. Presumptuous men were guys to avoid. Brock’s tongue held at the corner of his mouth when he took his seat again. He owned this attitude, this cocksure way of looking her up and down and making her feel alive again. With outstretched legs, he rubbed his palms across his jeans, drawing her attention to those hard muscles the faded denim had the good fortune to cover. The bulge in between his splayed thighs was hard to dismiss, and when she made the mistake of glancing down, the smirk on his face told quite a story. He wanted her to look. He liked seeing her get lost in that sinful body of his. Mary started a head to toe appraisal, but stopped herself before she went too far. That’s what he expected. Men like Brock were all the same. She didn’t need or want a man—much less this one. But still, there Brock sat, practically guiding her with those tortured eyes. Oh hell and damnation! She’d married one of those heroes, and one was enough to last eight lifetimes. Hurriedly, she went to the bar, grabbed her keys, and said her goodbyes. She charged the door, never bothering to look back. Unwilling to check and see if that haunted gaze darted across the room with her. She didn’t care. Oh sure, Brock was handsome and sexy. He was interested in her. She was certain of that. He was probably irresistible, too—the last thing she needed—and he represented pure trouble. She’d already been there and done that. Mary wasn’t going back for more. Oh hell no. Mary wed the military once. She’d be damned if she’d ever court one of its obedient soldiers again.

Chapter Two

“That went well,” Brock said, nursing his beer while considering how he might have stopped Mary from leaving. “I told you when you asked me about her to take things slow. You didn’t listen,” Anna said. “Mary isn’t like your other arm ornaments, Brock. She’s always been special.” “Kind of like her sister?” he asked, arching a brow. “No,” Anna retorted, resting her back against the chair. “Mary is nothing like me, and that’s why I asked you to be careful around her. You were like a bull charging her. You acted like you couldn’t wait to wrap your horns around her and drag her off somewhere quiet for a good breeding.” Brock grunted. “I tried to show her some compassion. Screw me for being a gentleman, and by the way, since when do you think I’m anything except an egotistical ass?” “Since I’ve decided you’re exactly what my sister needs.” “Mary doesn’t need me. Tom was right. She needs a lot of counseling, if you ask me.” “I didn’t ask you,” Anna fired right back. “Besides, it’s obvious you’re interested.” “I won’t be her shrink,” Brock said tightly, realizing he didn’t sound too convincing. “Well, I can promise you this, if you have anything else in mind outside of being her friend, she’ll shoot you down every single time you’re within firing range.” “Is that a fact?” Brock asked, eager to test Anna’s theory. “Yes sir, it is.” “The military ought to hire you. They need to create a position and let you handle matchmaking. Sometimes, I wonder how I ever went on a first date without you around to coach me.”

“Uh-huh, that’s exactly what I’ve been thinking, too. If the fellows here acted like you, the military wouldn’t have to worry about couple housing.” A beat later, she said, “I like your idea, though. With this real estate market like it is, I’d love to have a fun and easy job.” “Business off?” “Market is flat,” she complained, flashing a smile at another man in uniform. “Lord have mercy, the guys around here could make a nun stray from the convent.” Brock shook his head. “You’re a dead-level tease.” She shrugged, twirled the straw in her drink, and leaned over to take a sip, never looking away from the man who’d just entered the bar. “I try to keep my options open. One day, I’ll find my soul mate, but I plan on kissing a lot of pirates before I let a mercenary steal away with my heart.” A small group of officers walked through the door, forcing Anna to lose interest in her latest prey. “The selection process may take longer than expected if I frequent this place.” Brock snickered as he studied Anna and the men who were immediately aware of the attention they received. “You’re a flirt, Anna.” “Yes, I am,” she admitted, tilting her head and shoulder toward the fellows. Anna was a ball of energy, a real firecracker. She couldn’t sit still. Her height kept her feet from touching the floor, so she continually shifted in her bar chair, grabbing hold of the wooden ledge so she wouldn’t fall to the floor, a place she might find herself if she kept slurping down those margaritas. “Damn shame I like legs.” “Don’t even think about it. You and I would kill each other, Brock,” Anna said, stuffing a handful of peanuts between her lips while swinging one of those short limbs in his direction. “You got that right. Since the day I first met you, you’ve irritated the hell out of me,” he told her, twitching his nose with the memory of Anna trying to change a tire on the side of the road. She was a cute little thing, but she had a foul mouth. He’d never heard a woman say the Fword so many times in his life. Add in a few other choice words, too, and well, Brock wasn’t sure what to make of Anna. He was still glad he’d stopped to assist her that day. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had an easy time finding Mary on his own. And he’d wanted to locate her. Anna just helped speed up the process. He’d instantly liked Anna, but thank God, there hadn’t been any real chemistry between them. One of them would’ve certainly strangled the other. They were too much alike, and

because of the similarities, and the fact she made him laugh outright, they’d become fast friends. Mary, on the other hand, made his dick hard, and that had been the case since the first day he laid eyes on her. Sometimes, Brock tried to forget that day. Even though he was fully aware of the fact that Mary was another soldier’s wife—and not just any soldier’s spouse, but the man whom he’d fought beside, a guy who quickly became his best friend—he hadn’t been able to get Mary out of his mind. He’d fantasized about her. He’d wondered then like he questioned himself now. Could he reach out to Mary, and if he did, how far was he willing to go to get what he wanted? He knew the answer to that, and he should’ve been ashamed of himself. “Leave Mary to me,” Brock grumbled, dipping his fingers into another endless bucket of peanuts Frank pushed in front of them. “If I left her in your hands, Lord only knows what would happen.” Brock faced her. “Listen, Anna. You like to think you’ve orchestrated this whole thing with me and your little sister. Maybe you gave me a nudge in the right direction, but don’t be so sure I wasn’t already headed that way anyhow.” Anna rolled her eyes and laughed. She studied him for a good bit before she said, “You think I make your hair stand up, wait until Mary finds out you were with Luke before he died. That’ll go over well.” “You should’ve told her when you introduced me.” “I didn’t see you opening your big mouth.” “I was too busy staring at an angel.” “Gawking is more like it, and the only thing you were staring at were her boobs.” “She’s got a nice rack. What can I say?” “Anything but that,” Anna bit out. “She’s my sister, for heaven sakes.” “Yeah and who knows, one day soon, I may be your brother-in-law,” Brock teased, realizing Anna would love that one. “Damn boy. You’ve got it bad.” “Not yet, but I have a feeling where Mary’s concerned, I’m headed for a rocky road straight uphill.”

Frank set two shots in front of them. “Lady at the end of the bar is buying you both a drink.” Brock glanced down the long stretch of shiny wood. He immediately bowed his head as if he were attempting to duck out of sight. “Shit!” “Someone you know?” Anna asked, swinging her leg. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. She looks like a Brock-groupie, so yep, I’m pretty sure you know her.” “Used to—past tense and all that.” Anna sighed dramatically. “She’s pretty, and she’s got big boobs, so she’s definitely your type. You banged her.” Yep and Brock hadn’t been able to shake her since he took her to bed a few months ago. “She’s insane. Gal has attachment issues.” “With you?” “From what I hear, it’s me and every other guy in Beaufort. I guess she figures if she latches on tight to several of us all at once, she’ll eventually land that military pension she seems hell-bent on securing.” “Well by the looks of her, I’d say her odds increase whenever she shows up here,” Anna remarked, sliding away from her chair. “You need to be careful, Brock. You know, it’s not an absolute necessity to take home an easy mark at closing time.” “You don’t say,” he said, tilting the shot glass to the woman dressed in jeans and a lowcut top. “Where are you off to?” “I need to check on Mary. Seeing Tom was more than she could handle.” “Why don’t you let me go?” “Brock, you can’t rush her.” “Who knows,” he said, grabbing his jacket as he stood. “Maybe she’s in a bigger hurry than either of us realize. Maybe she wants to get on with her life, and she just doesn’t know how or where to begin.” “You think you’re what she needs?” “There’s not a doubt in my mind. Luke has been dead for over six months, but he’s been away from here for well over a year. What do you think your sister needs most?” Anna frowned. “If I were in her shoes, I’d take one look at you and run like hell.”

“She can run all she wants. I’m ready for the chase and up for the challenge.” A beat later, he added, “And by the way, if you went without sex for that long, you’d sue the government for loss of consortium.” “You’re probably right,” she retorted thoughtfully before adding, “Brock, be careful. Please. If you aren’t, I’m afraid you’ll scare her.” “No, I won’t. She’ll never know what hit her until it’s too late.” **** Mary was sick of this. She paced the floor of her townhome as she glared out the window every few seconds. When Anna arrived, and she would eventually come, Mary planned to give her a piece of her mind. On the way home, Mary decided if Anna hadn’t followed her to the sidewalk, Tom might have supplied more information. Instead, Anna bounced outside with a big flirty grin just for Tom. He’d become rigid and distant, refusing to look Mary in the eye. Well, when Miss Anna arrived, she was in for a real ass chewing. Afterward, Mary would sit down with Anna and ask her for help. After all, she owed her that much. Tom liked Anna. He might confide in her. If Anna wanted to make eyes at Tom, then she could be used for a greater purpose and find out what Tom knew. He was obviously interested, and if Anna wanted to find out something, hell’s fires couldn’t keep her from achieving her goals. She was quite persuasive when she wanted to be, and Mary would convince her why she needed to do this. Her happiness depended upon Anna’s compliance. About the time Mary started another stroll across the burgundy Oriental runner, her doorbell rang. Right on time. Anna was predictable, if nothing else. Her sister most likely felt some remorse for dragging her out in the first place. She might as well play on that guilt. After she gave her what she really deserved. Mary greeted opportunity without a second, or a word, to spare.

Chapter Three

“The next time you try and set me up with some hardcore, sexy-as-all-fucking-hell military prick, I swear to God, I’m gonna—” “Anna told me how to get here,” Brock interrupted as soon as the door was pushed all the way back. “Fuck my life,” Mary muttered, thinking she’d never seen a hotter man than the one in front of her. Even Luke would have a difficult time measuring up to Brock, and that was saying a lot. Stop it right now, she thought. She didn’t have the right to gawk at this stranger as if he were a packaged adult delivery for an overnight stay. “This is not happening to me.” Brock winked, a devilish grin marking a permanent place on his face. “Prick? Really? Is that the best you can do?” She released a troubled sigh. Apparently, he missed the compliment laced through that warm greeting. “Why are you here?” She saw the attitude coming from a mile away. “I was afraid someone might try to set you up with some hardcore, sexy-as-all-fucking-hell military prick. I’m here to save you.” “From myself?” she asked, meaning she needed all the help she could get since she had the open-mouth-insert-foot concept down to a perfected science. “Should I take that to mean you’re interested?” “What do you want?” she asked, ignoring his underlying insinuations. “An invitation inside would be a nice start.” “Why?”

“Maybe because it’s the polite thing to do, especially after you spoke so passionately about me.” “The last time a soldier stood in my doorway, he brought bad news with him. Would you invite that into your home, Mr. Taylor?” “Depends on what you consider bad news, Mary. And please, call me Brock. We’ll do better in the end if we start out with first names.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “You think you could stand my answer?” Mary propped her hands on her hips. “Depends. Think you can handle rejection?” An impish grin claimed his full mouth. “I’m rarely told no. Now, may I come in or not?” She took a deep breath and thought about giving him the two-letter word, something to tarnish that silver ego of his. Instead, she went against her better judgment. “Sure.” “Thank you,” he said, stepping right inside the door. She narrowed her gaze on Brock’s large frame. A cool gust of air whipped around her and practically knocked the breath out of her. There was something about a sudden wind, the way the air shifted directions without an announcement, without any warning whatsoever, and that made Mary very nervous. For the first time in a long time, Mary didn’t trust herself as a woman. She certainly didn’t trust herself with this man. Brooding knowledge filled Brock’s eyes. A flash of lust, of pure male heat, washed across his face. Mary knew better than to tempt a creature of this magnitude. But for some reason, after the icebreaker, or where she more or less acknowledged she was attracted to this man, Mary couldn’t help herself. Brock Taylor appealed to her, and she was tempted to use him. Brock looked like he could handle whatever she had in mind. Innocent play never hurt anyone. Besides, when it came right down to it, Mary was only a woman. She had needs, desires she’d recognized but somehow convinced herself she was better off ignoring. His gaze rushed over her like a spring rain, fast and quick, a storm that could be missed in a blink, but the repercussions would remain for days thereafter. Her nerve endings were on fire,

and she wasn’t sure she could take the scrutiny when he paused at her thighs, swiped his tongue across those thick lips, and waited, something she imagined he could do all night. Military men were patient guys. They could stand and watch and bide their time. Mary wished for willpower, the strength to tell him to get the hell out, but instead, she stood there. She stared. Mary gaped at a person who had the power to heal or possibly destroy her. Yes, she saw all of that in a fellow she’d only just met. Brock reminded her of Luke then. She and Luke shared a reckless love in the early days, and it was undoubtedly love at first sight between them. There had been this chemistry, this undeniable need to get to know one another, as if they’d been in a hurry. And oh goodness, how they’d loved, almost since the first day, the first hour. Now, she was thankful for that time she’d spent with Luke. What if she’d resisted him initially? What if she’d defied that natural urgency? How many days, weeks, or even months would they have lost if she’d dismissed their early attraction? Mary shivered as she recalled the past. Then, she jerked when Brock’s hand brushed against hers. Was this a second chance? If so, was history repeating itself? And how could she let another man into her life after one soldier already left her in ruins? “Are we gonna stand here all night and look at one another?” “Are you complaining?” she teased, thinking she’d been dead wrong about him. She first thought she might contain Brock if she didn’t taunt him. Fact was, Brock didn’t need much persuasion, and she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to get to know him. “Are you scared?” “Me? No,” she replied, aware of how his question caught her off guard. “You sure about that, Mary?” he asked, tipping his head to the side, as if he tried to look under the fallen bangs that prevented her eyes from meeting his. The smooth way he said her name was like a long-awaited first stroke in the middle of a midnight fuck. She nearly gasped when he pulled her to him and his lips whispered over hers. Right when she started to get lost in the kiss, he backed away. Brock was toying with her. She knew he was and quickly questioned his motives. Why would he take such a big risk after what he’d watched on the sidewalks of Beaufort? How could she appeal to him on any level?

He took a short stroll around the foyer, studying the pictures hanging from the walls, and there were many. Several wedding photos showcased the start of a beautiful marriage, a relationship that was destined to last, but maybe that was fate’s cruelest joke. They were only permitted to live as man and wife for the duration of Luke’s short life, and it wasn’t fair. Brock carefully studied each framed image, and in spite of wanting him to go, Mary was curious enough to let him stay. She still couldn’t help but question why he would even want to be there. What kind of man marched into her home, the home she’d shared with her dead husband, and seduced someone he barely knew? Why had he casually made contact, and even though it was limited, why had she responded? Why were her knees shaking, her body trembling, and her pussy clenching with immeasurable desire? Who did that to a woman, a soldier’s wife, a widow? “I’ve already set my sights on you. Don’t question that. Don’t doubt it. I’m here to follow through, and no one—not even you, Mary—will stand in my way. So if you’re not interested in seeing where this can go tonight, you can stop me right now. But even if you do, I’ll keep coming back. So we can stand around and pretend there’s nothing happening here, or we can get the sex out of the way and go from there.” Mary gulped. The way he spoke to her was too familiar and far too sensual for a man who knew nothing of her past and held nothing for her future. Then again, she couldn’t help but notice the way she immediately found herself drawn to him. Her nipples were tender and hard. Worse, she wore a thin shirt and lace bra. Her garments did little to conceal her lust. And to make matters worse? He wanted to fuck, get the sex out of the way, as he so eloquently put things. What kind of man said such a thing? Definitely one with attitude and confidence, not to mention little regard for the emotions such an act often stirred in women like herself, women who typically didn’t sleep around. Copping a smile, he tilted his head toward her chest. “Wanna deny you’re turned on?” “Why are you doing this?” she asked, exasperation thick in her tone. Brock inched closer. “Because you’re not stopping me.” Another step. “You don’t want me to stop.” And one more. “I’m doing precisely what you need me to do.”

Bracketing his arms around her waist, Brock pulled her against him, and their bodies melded together as steadfast as steel. Her breasts mashed against his chest, and he ground against her, wedging the weight of his cock between the juncture in her upper thighs. Mary closed her eyes and held onto him, forcing Luke out of her mind, away from this moment. Even then, she felt like an adulteress, a married woman who fell into the wrong man’s arms. “Let yourself go, Mary,” Brock whispered, sipping at her earlobe. “Let yourself feel.” “I can’t,” she choked out, a cry for more rather than less, a practical fact she couldn’t deny. Her body longed for this, perhaps even a deeper connection, a more satisfying moment. And while she said she couldn’t, denied that she might, her lower half bumped against him. “Shh…” he crooned, working her body from side to side, his hands caressing her back. Brock most definitely planned to take what he wanted. He was that kind of man. He had nerves of iron, each of them strewn tightly together with intense arrogance, compliments of the military and the men who proudly represented the red, white, and blue. Special ops were a different breed indeed. Women who loved them often considered them men with special needs. They were often gone for months at a time, and when they came home, they tried to make up for lost time. These men probably never processed a potential “no” because they never faced an opposition too great to overcome. Fellows like Brock saw rejection as an invitation to pursue, so they planned their attacks prior to an approach, certain they’d never be turned away. A low moan slipped from his lips. “You like being close to me, don’t you, Mary?” Again, he moved with her, dragging her body as he swayed, letting her feel his strength, the rigid length pulsing against her. Her sex was hot, pure fire. Her clit was swollen, throbbing. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he said, daring her. Mary’s heartbeat quickened. She didn’t want him to stop. She didn’t necessarily want to take the next step, but she damn sure didn’t want this to end yet. “I can’t.” “You can’t because you don’t want me to,” he said, nipping at her bottom lip. “No, I mean I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can. You are doing this,” he reminded her, running his fingers over an extended nipple protruding through the thin clothing.

She gasped as the sensations he stirred made her aware of her sex, of the desires she’d pushed aside for far too long. “You could come,” he promised, whispering across her lips. “Just like this, Mary. Ride me, sugar.” And with that, he grabbed her hips, hoisted her into his arms and secured her legs around his waist, pressing her back to the wall at the same time. Then, he bumped against her, ground his lower half against her mound, and worked for the release he assured her she could take. “That’s what you need, baby,” he said softly, gripping her bottom with both hands. “It’s only foreplay, Mary. I’m not inside you. I’m not where you need me to be…yet. There’s no harm in getting turned on, excited. Use me, honey. Let me please you.” Mary twisted in his arms. She wanted this. Then, she didn’t. She needed him, but she shouldn’t. She was in love with her husband. She didn’t know this man. She owned no rights to him, no certain claims, nor did she want them. But that didn’t stop her. She squeezed her legs against his and arched her neck, accepting the kisses he spread over her chin and jaw before he moved lower. She jerked as his tongue dipped under the low-cut material. “I can’t,” she rasped again, shaking her head, knowing she could, understanding then that with a little persuasion, she would. “You will. I’m right here, Mary,” he assured her. The oral pampering halted long enough for him to search her eyes. “I’m here now. I’m exactly what you need. Grab hold and hang on tight to what you’ve got right this minute.” He kissed her, his tongue settling between her lips. The smooth way he used his tongue sent her spinning, and the raging need continued to build. She longed to defy her body, but realized then with the lust building, pushing him away was next to impossible. They’d gone too far. He’d gotten her too hot, too bothered. Oh God! She was coming apart. “Brock!” she cried out his name as his body secured hers. He grabbed both her hands, thrusting them high above her head while pressing forward, rocking to and fro as he dry humped her against the wall. She panted and whimpered. She thrashed around as he moved her closer and closer to orgasm. The curtains were open. Anyone could see them. What the hell was she doing?

She writhed under the weight of his body, her head moving from side to side as he took a deeper, more fulfilling kiss. And that’s when she lost all control.

Chapter Four

Brock’s lips were like fire and ice. They brought pain and pleasure. He licked at the texture, taking his own sweet time kissing her, and maybe that’s what she needed. Perhaps he was giving her time to push him away, and this was some sort of test. He dragged his mouth against hers, placing feather-light kisses across her cheek until he reached her ear. “This is probably your last chance to say no,” he said, pulling one arm down and leaving her hand at his belt. His rapid pursuit then came to a sudden halt. They were locked in a telling moment. They’d reached a crossroads, and Mary wasn’t certain which way she wanted to go. Her body said one thing. Her heart whispered another. Her head didn’t even have a ball in this game, which made decision making difficult. “I’ll never hurt you,” he promised. “You have no reason to believe that, but trust me—I’ll never bring you pain.” “Why would you say that?” Mary asked, gathering her senses. Brock eased away from her. His wild eyes softened as he placed a palm to her cheek. “I know what I’m feeling, and I’ve never felt anything like this before.” Prior to that moment, Mary would’ve guessed that Brock was the kind of man who took what he wanted then made a woman grovel for the rest of her natural life. Only now, she wasn’t so sure. He acted as if he were sincere, as if he really wanted to get to know her. Well, too damn bad. She wasn’t going to be a soldier’s woman again. She couldn’t allow herself. She’d built a life on false promises, on dreams she couldn’t pursue alone. Besides, Mary still loved her husband. “Is there something wrong?” Brock asked.

Yeah, there was something the matter. She was looking at him with wide wonder, asking herself what she’d missed, and knowing the answer to the multi-faceted question all along. “This is against my better judgment.” “I don’t bite, Mary.” “That’s what they all say,” she retorted bitterly, slamming the door she should’ve closed earlier. Out of impulse, she locked and latched the deadbolts. Immediately, she regretted what the gesture represented when she saw how Brock’s hooded eyes followed her hand. “Are you afraid here?” “Habit,” she explained, heading for the kitchen. “Can I fix you something to drink?” “Sure, I’ll take a beer if you’ve got one,” he replied, shoving stiff fingers through his short hair. She opened the fridge, pulled out the bottom drawer, and handed Brock a bottle. “You got something on your mind, soldier? I mean outside of groping another man’s wife, is there a reason you came here?” “You’re another man’s widow, Mary. You aren’t obligated by vows anymore.” Mary flinched. “What do you know about marriage vows?” Brock’s upper cheek twitched. “Not much. Not yet.” “Why are you doing this?” “You’re allowing me the opportunity of your company. If you don’t want me here, ask me to leave.” “I want you to go,” she said weakly. He stalked her. “Not good enough. Say it like you mean it.” Mary cleared her throat. “I don’t want you here.” Brock looked around the small kitchen. His gaze darted between the kitchen table, the pantry, and the double ovens. “I’m not going anywhere until you convince me you want to be alone.” Silence overtook them. The soft hum of the window air conditioning unit was the only sound in the room. Finally, Mary said, “No one wants to be alone.” “You don’t have to be by yourself, Mary.” She laughed at that. “What? You think you can save me?”

“You don’t need saving. You may need some loving, but saving? No, you’re strong enough to pull yourself together. You just haven’t made up your mind to do that yet.” “You act like you know me. You know nothing about me.” Brock took a deep breath. “Maybe not, but there’s something I need to tell you. Maybe after I say what’s on my mind, you’ll feel a little differently about me.” Was this the point of no return? Should she have found the courage to ask him to leave and watched him go? Why was he looking at her as if he were ready to confess his sins? Who was this man, and why did she find herself inexplicably drawn to him? “I knew your husband,” he blurted out, walking toward her and allowing the beer bottle to swing at his side. “I knew Luke. We were both on a special assignment in Afghanistan.” “Which tour?” she asked, her heart threatening to break. Was this the reason Anna had introduced them? Had her sister known Brock was the answer to Mary’s prayers? Did he know what had happened to Luke in the final hours of his life? And if so, why hadn’t he just said so? Why had he come into her home and seduced her, and what kind of woman in love allowed herself to be swept away by another man in the first place? Brock bowed his head. Mary swallowed hard. Her eyes were burning. Her mouth was dry. Her pulse flew at an uneven rate. “Which tour, damn you!” Was this a cruel joke? Brock narrowed his gaze on her chest. Couldn’t the damn pervert respect the man beside whom he’d fought? He was standing in a dead man’s home, talking to a widow of someone he most likely once considered a friend, and he couldn’t keep his lust-filled eyes from taking a fieldtrip? He took a step forward, then another one. She backed up two paces then sat down at the kitchen table. She pointed at the chair across from her own, but she couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. “I was with Luke three days before he died,” Brock informed her, taking the seat next to her rather than the chair that she’d indicated. “Luke was my friend, Mary. We were like brothers from the moment we first met. No one in the field was as trained as we were, and we each had our strengths, enough to carry our teams, if that was what we needed to do. We had a mutual

respect for one another but we didn’t take ourselves or each other too seriously so we were buddies, best friends.” Mary could see where that was possible. She noted the strong similarities. Brock’s eyes held hers. “So you knew him well, and that’s what you came here to tell me?” she asked, folding her hands in her lap while thinking she’d been played from the very beginning. “This last tour was classified and—” “I really don’t care about the government’s special missions. Were you with my husband when he died?” “No,” he deadpanned, his gaze burning through her until she became quite uncomfortable. Gaining the strength she needed, she leaned forward and asked, “Why did you come here? Did Anna ask you to do this?” “No, Anna doesn’t have any idea what I need to say to you.” “Which is?” “I feel like I know you.” “You don’t,” she assured him, standing. He took a drag from his beer. “Yes, I do, Mary. Luke was always talking about you. I know how and where the two of you met, what your favorite pastime was—outside of morning sex, which he told me day after day was most definitely worth rising early for—and I know about his dreams for the life he wanted to spend loving you.” Mary cried out. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she turned away from Brock. Was this guy some kind of weird stalker? Did he pursue the widows of men he’d known in combat? Did he feel like it was his duty to be there for the women of fallen soldiers? If so, then by God, with a body like that, she imagined a lot of gals would appreciate the personal sacrifices he made for his country. “Luke was my friend. If he’d survived this tour, I have no doubts that you and I would’ve met, and we would’ve become good friends, too.” Mary left the table and nervously fumbled through the cabinets for the final letter she’d received from Afghanistan. When she couldn’t find the one she wanted, she faced Brock again. “You were in the last photograph, weren’t you?”

“The tall goofy guy in the back row, wearing a wig with dreads? Yep, that would be me.” She returned to her search, opening cabinets and drawers, scouring for what she was sure would put some of her questions to rest—a letter, note, picture, or something. “Was it a costume party?” “A bet.” A second later, he added, “I lost.” “No, you didn’t. You were the only survivor. All those men in that picture—all of them except you—they’re all dead now. Did you know that?” A sob escaped her lips, and she turned away, trying her best to gain some composure. “So I guess you weren’t the biggest loser, were you?” Brock stood. Mary’s body went stiff as he approached her. “Luke, he was uh, he was always sending me these ridiculous snapshots. He wasn’t much for writing letters, but he’d send a photograph with an inscription on the back.” She shuffled through mounds of mail once again. “I have it here somewhere.” Frantic in a matter of seconds when she couldn’t find proof of whether or not Brock was who he said, she opened and closed drawers again, slammed cabinet doors, and finally slapped her hands on the counter and took a deeply troubled breath. “You should go.” “I’m not going anywhere, Mary,” Brock said softly. “If I’d had a wife, a wife I loved as much as Luke loved you, I would’ve expected Luke to be there for her.” His hands fell to her waist. Using his thumbs, he applied pressure to her lower back. “Turn around, Mary.” He held the stealthy grace of a panther, as if he were hiding something in plain sight. Still, she realized his truer motive would soon be revealed. His eyes were dark and possessive, predatory. He looked eager to lay claims to new prey. Mary buried her face in her palms. “I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can,” he whispered against her knuckles. “I’m interested in you, Mary.” “Why?” Mary asked, dropping her arms to her sides. “If you were Luke’s friend, why would you do this?” “I have my reasons,” Brock told her, pulling her into a tight embrace. She didn’t know what his intentions were, nor did she care. What mattered then was the physical aspect. Brock’s broad, muscular arms opened wide, and he held her. A rock-hard chest

was there to support her. For some reason, she was willing to let Brock supply what she needed most. This was what she’d missed. A man’s body was exactly what she’d needed and maybe even what she’d desired most in the world. There was nothing to stop her from taking what she yearned for, so Brock was right. They needed to get the sex out of the way. After that, maybe she could concentrate on more important things, like finding out what had happened to her husband. If she played her cards right, maybe Brock Taylor would help her find the answers she needed. If he didn’t, he’d still serve his purpose.

Chapter Five

Brock was being used. Maybe that would’ve bothered him if he hadn’t planned on sticking around. Perhaps a better man would’ve refused Mary, but Brock never thought of himself as the better man, unless of course he was in a combative situation. That’s where he stood out, and most in the field considered Brock better than the rest. He was one tough son-of-a-bitch, and he knew it, but for some reason, this petite blondehaired vixen had him by the balls. She was already his weakness, and he’d known she would be. She’d had a hold on him since the first day Luke showed off those damned-ass pictures of his wife, talking about a love like no other. And she had no idea how he’d carried a torch for her. Maybe he should’ve been ashamed of himself for that kind of distant lust, for wanting another soldier’s woman. He’d craved this beautiful creature in front of him long before Anna introduced them. Brock thought back to the night when he’d told Luke he was infatuated with Mary. Luke handled his confession well, much better than Brock expected. He’d said, “You think my wife is sexy. So what? Do you think you’re the first man who said he had a thing for Mary? Hell no.” The liquor had been running rampant, and the booze had inspired him to speak freely. He’d said, “If you were any kind of man at all, you’d share her with your best friend.” Luke had chuckled, taking it all in stride. His reply then was instant and firmly delivered. “When hell freezes over, man. I’d go crazy watching her with you or anyone else.” Now, Brock understood why. Mary was like a slow moving dream. Full of grace, she walked through the hallway, casually peering over her shoulder once or twice, as if she thought he wouldn’t be there behind her.

There was no stopping him. He possessed motives. He was focused. If he’d learned anything from Luke at all, it was about Mary. This whirlwind of a fling was exactly what they both needed. This was precisely how she and Luke had started their romance, what Luke once described as the most intense love affair of his life. Brock wanted a piece of that. If he and Mary had chemistry—and it was already obvious that they might—he planned to see this thing through. He was twenty-nine years old, and he wanted to settle down. Maybe Mary wasn’t prepared to give her heart to another, but Brock believed one day soon she would be, and he’d wait. He was a patient man. He followed Mary to her bedroom. She walked over to the round bedside table and turned on the lamp. Tucking her hands behind her, she leaned against the wall. Sadness crept across her face, and her expression broke his heart. She glanced around the large area, appearing as if she’d just entered her bedroom for the first time. From where he stood, Brock could see Luke’s clothes still hanging in the walk-in closet, right across from hers. His shoes lined the bottom rack, and they were fully polished, much better than a spit and shine. “You can have my body. You’ll never have my heart,” she said softly, acting as if she thought he was prepared to take what she wouldn’t willingly give. Brock stalked her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her. “I don’t want one without the other, Mary.” He tilted her chin toward his and brushed his lips past hers. “It’s nonnegotiable. If you think I’m only interested in a one-night stand, then you’re mistaken. Maybe you should return to that bar and pick up another soldier.” “I could,” she muttered, a lame attempt to make him think she’d considered that very thing. If she even dared, he’d stop her. He’d step in front of her and say something he’d likely regret. “I didn’t pick you up,” Mary remarked following a brief silence. “You didn’t have to. I was there for you. Somewhere deep inside, you already know this.” Mary swallowed hard. “Why?” He shrugged. “When the time is right, I’ll tell you.”

“What if you never get another chance to say what needs to be said now?” Brock sighed, backed away, and took a seat on the bed. With his legs splayed, he dropped his hands between his knees and said, “You’re right. In this line of work, a soldier doesn’t know when he may have another opportunity to say what’s on his mind.” Mary sat next to him. “Luke taught me that, if nothing else.” “What else did he teach you, Mary?” Brock asked, turning to study her beautiful face, immediately impressed by her flawless skin and impeccable features. Her small button nose and high cheekbones were perfect, but her mouth was guaranteed to ruin a good man. With full, pouty lips, Brock might have suspected collagen treatments if he hadn’t seen Mary’s childhood pictures. One in particular stood out in his mind—a photograph of Mary and a dog named Pigeon. Brock grinned as he thought about Luke telling the story of Mary and Pigeon. He wondered when he might find the appropriate time to let her know how Luke often tried to locate a similar dog. Someday, he’d relay the stories her husband once shared. If nothing else, maybe Mary would realize he paid attention. He cared enough to listen. In fact, through Luke, Brock halfway fell in love. And Brock didn’t like to half-ass anything. It was time to finish what he’d started. Mary stood all of a sudden, and he was taken aback by the brazen way she seemingly decided to go after what she wanted, too. Slow hands cascaded across small oblong buttons. Her eyes were heavy and laden with pure unadulterated lust. “Tell me, Mary,” he whispered, watching as she slid her slender arms away from rolled sleeves. The soft silk top drifted to the carpet, and Brock’s gaze fell to her full chest. Lace covered her, but did little to hide the hard nipples pressing through the material. “Show me how you were taught to love.” Her blue eyes sparkled like the royal waters of the Pacific as she tossed her long, straight golden hair over thin shoulders using both hands to slide her skirt away from shapely hips. Bowing her head and lowering her eyes, she said, “Luke taught me everything a man like you expects a woman to know.” Brock’s heart threatened to collapse right there. Had Luke trained her to enjoy the things he’d come to expect from his lovers as well? Was Mary his submissive little bride?

Reining in his need, Brock imagined what Mary held in store. This was too good to be true. How had he overlooked what was in front of him the whole time? How had he missed what Luke must’ve been trying to tell him in so many words? He recalled key words Luke had said in the past, statements like “presenting” or “knelt”, but he also remembered how Luke often made light of the comments, too, which was why Brock never thought twice about Domination and submission. Until now. “Come here, Mary,” he said, reaching for her. She followed his request, inching closer to where he sat. She stood in front of him, stepping in between his open legs. Mary’s tiny waist was a perfect fit for his large hands. Placing both palms on either side of her torso, he brought her closer. His lips met her skin, and he dragged his tongue across her warm silken flesh, savoring her taste. The honey sweet smell of her sex engaged him, taunting him to take what he wanted most. “Show me what you were taught,” Brock encouraged her, raising his gaze to meet hers while avoiding the temptation her body brought. Holy hell, what he’d give to dip his head a bit lower, strip that thong away from her body, and wedge his tongue inside her wet pussy. Mary backed away from the bed, reached behind her shoulders, and unhooked her bra. As she freed herself, Brock did the same—releasing his belt, lowering his zipper, and yanking off his pants as he kicked away his shoes. Lastly, he shrugged out of the tight shirt confining him. The only clothing to speak of was the thong Mary sported as she sashayed around the tall post at the end of the bed. She gripped the dark wood so tightly, her knuckles looked pronounced, whitened by the loss of circulation. As she teased him, Brock relaxed against the bed, observing as this remarkable woman twirled around like a stripper taking to her pole. Long locks shimmied down her back as she swayed right then twirled around to the left, wrapping her body around the furniture as an exotic showgirl might. “You like to dance, don’t you?” “I like to please,” she replied. “But you’ve already gathered that, haven’t you, sir?” Sir? Dear God. Was she so practiced in Domination and submission that she recognized an impetuous Dom, a dominant partner ready to train and connect with his submissive?

He caught himself closing his eyes. Her words were like music to his ears. Mary and Luke had been in the lifestyle to some degree. No question there. Whether they toyed with a little bondage and role play or lived in the throes of the BDSM community wasn’t a matter of question. The military wouldn’t have allowed their soldiers the opportunity to collar a wife, much less visit and frequent known BDSM clubs. It would’ve been greatly frowned upon, which led Brock to several questions. How much did Mary know? What had Luke taught her? Mary’s pale skin was flushed. Her high cheekbones were the perfect shade of pink. She smiled, and for a split second, Brock was lost in expectation, as if he fully expected Mary to give herself to him without reservations, without holding back. About the time he ran his hand across his cock for the first time, her eyes watered. He held his breath and waited for the tears to come, expecting a widow’s guilt to emerge. Instead, to his sweet surprise, the only expression remaining there was unharnessed lust.

Chapter Six

This was a hell of a way to get involved with another man. There were so many similarities here, too many to consider. This night was reminiscent of her first evening with Luke. Brock reminded her of Luke, too, yet the notable differences appealed to her as well. Brock was harder. His cold eyes warned of a harrowing past, a troubled history a woman didn’t want to know about. But she was curious what his eyes had seen, where his hands had traveled. She longed to know more about him one minute, and the very next, she didn’t care to understand him at all. One minute, she was interested in asking questions. The next, she became as indifferent as humanly possible. Brock had a story to tell. She didn’t want to hear it. He had past lovers, friends and family, maybe even an ex-significant other. She didn’t care. She focused instead on the physical aspect, on the chemistry between them. The journey that led them there really didn’t matter. Brock cared about yesterday enough to mention his association with Luke. While she was grateful for his honesty, she didn’t want him to stick around tomorrow. There were enough warning signs to stop this potential catastrophe before they even began, but she couldn’t throw on the brakes. Luke was gone. Brock was right here. And he was looking at her as if she were the sexiest woman in the world, as if he understood her desires and needs. What woman turned away a man like Brock Taylor? Certainly not her. Her motivation for getting carried away seemed valid, legitimate enough for understanding, not that she sought approval from outsiders, but at the same time, she’d never

want to disrespect Luke’s memory. Still, at that moment, she found the courage to shelve the past, to get on with a future, and lay down with a stranger for the very reasons he suggested.

She needed to get the sex out of the way and go from there. Perhaps Brock meant they could move on together. She looked at this experience a little differently. If she went to bed with Brock, perhaps she would later find the courage to finish living out her life. And with an uncertain future, who could say what tomorrow held for either of them. One thing was certain. The here and now looked mighty appealing. **** Restraint was out of the question. Her body moved like wind chimes in a violent wind, and Brock had never seen a more sensual creature. Typically, one to take his time with a new submissive partner, Brock doubted his own self-control. “Mary, if I ask you to do something that makes you uncomfortable, tell me.” “My safe word is forbidden,” she said, insinuating the word had been used before. He narrowed his gaze on her pretty, pointed nipples, and his mouth watered as he considered all the ways he wanted her aroused. Without a doubt, Luke trained her to submit. Luke, without knowledge, prepared her for him. “Lie down,” he instructed, pulling her next to him. Once she stretched out beside him, he became the man he was behind closed doors rather than, perhaps, the man she needed him to be. “I want you to spread your legs,” he told her, lying on his side. He watched as she complied without hesitation. He propelled his hand down her chest, raking his fingers over her nipple, and settling a flat palm against her stomach. Her mound was bare but prickly, indicating she shaved rather than waxed her pussy, a fact he’d have to change immediately. A Brazilian wax was in order, and he wondered how she’d feel about that. There were many things he wanted to discover about Mary. Many secrets he’d expect her to share. Leaving the bed, he stood at the edge, eying her parted, sleek folds. The glistening moisture around her opening caught his eye, and he longed to push his tongue high inside her channel, bury his mouth in her sex, and lap up her sweet essence.

He gripped her thighs and towered over her, leaning down so he could kiss her belly, dragging his tongue up and down her trembling flesh. Pausing at her mound, he whispered across her intimate knoll, “I’ll never hurt you, sub. Do you believe me?” “Yes, sir,” she responded, arching her neck as if she were bracing for the sensual acts set to begin. “Will you trust me?” “I…maybe,” she replied, spreading her legs wider. He slapped her pussy and eyed the discoloration as the smack left its temporary place on her skin, the imprint of three fingers quickly disappearing. “Maybe isn’t good enough, sub.” He smacked again. She yelped as she jerked, responding to the pussy swat he gently delivered. He wanted her attention and her compliance. Sure, he wanted her respect, too, and trust would come sooner than later. His submissive women learned to rely upon him because he made sure to earn the confidence instilled in him. “I don’t know how to trust anyone other than Luke,” she admitted. He saw the heartache and the devastation then. He also noted something else, an emotion that threatened to yank his heart from his chest. “Are you scared, sub?” Mary’s nose twitched and she sniffed. She was frightened. “Yes, sir.” The dam broke then, and she cried aloud. “I don’t know how to live without him!” Brock should’ve gathered her in his arms without hesitation, but he wasn’t able to offer her the compassion she needed. He was envious of the love she’d shared with another, a man he knew as a friend and fellow soldier. Her soft sobs became a song of despair, and Brock reluctantly caressed her hips and thighs, working his hands up and down her legs. “Cry, sub. Cry it out, honey,” he said softly. He’d never witnessed anything more pitiful in his life. The woman he cared for, could potentially love, exposed her soul as much as her body as she lay there, timidly placing her arms over her bare breasts as complete torment shook her. There wasn’t anything he could do except go to her. He tried to resist being drawn into the understandable grief of a widow, but the overwhelming desire to comfort her was more than he could stand. He wrapped her body against his and rocked her. “I’m sorry, sir,” she whispered against his chest.

He was sorry, too. Even though he wanted the woman Lieutenant Lucas Worthington had coveted most, in that moment, if he could’ve brought him back, he would have moved hell and earth to give Mary what she needed most. He would’ve stepped aside, even though the cost would’ve been great, the price a going rate he hoped he never had to pay. His happiness in exchange for hers. Still, he would’ve surrendered his dreams, his future, to give her back what she felt she’d lost rather than the future he hoped they’d someday gain. “You don’t understand what it’s like. I’ve always been alone. Even when Luke was here, he was always signing up for another tour, leaving for an unknown destination, or attending meetings in undisclosed locations. I’ve spent my entire adult life by myself.” Brock gritted his teeth and grated back an explanation. There wasn’t one. Being married to a soldier was a great sacrifice. He understood the seclusion, the isolation often felt by those married to men in the military. Still, he fully expected to ask Mary to do the same for him. He’d longed for her in a way that didn’t make sense, and he was grateful for the chance to hold her. “Shh, sub. It’s all right. You’re not alone now, Mary. You’ll never be alone again.”

Chapter Seven

Brock was a man designed for a woman’s good time. With palms on either side of her head, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, lapping at her mouth as if he had all day, maybe all week, to learn the taste of her. She wrapped her hand around his nape and pulled him closer, wedging her tongue inside his mouth as she took the heated kiss she needed most. “Don’t rush me, sub,” he warned, breaking the connection, staring down the length of their bodies. He stood then, easing away from the bed in slow motion, watching her as if he wanted her image stamped to memory, etched in his mind’s eye forever. He used one hand to stabilize her trembling leg. “I won’t hurt you, Mary.” His hard length protruded, making her gasp in anticipation. What she wanted from him wasn’t normal, wasn’t acceptable. She was still married in her mind. What kind of woman took another man to her bed when she deeply loved and cherished the husband who gave her his last name? “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked, a whimper in her voice. Brock’s eyes were moist. He slowly nodded. “Yes, Mary. Luke is gone.” “And he’d want me to be happy, right?” “I think so,” Brock said, clearing his throat. “I know that’s true.” She forced a smile and released a worrisome sigh. She questioned her motives then. The way she looked to Brock for reassurance insinuated she planned to rely on him in some way. He advanced, moving between her legs and kissing her calf, thigh, and hip. He used his thick arms to widen her legs and took to task pleasuring her, dragging his tongue up and down until she was anticipating more, eager to have the rest.

His hot breath whispered across her pussy lips, and her moans caught in her chest. “Tonight, I’ll take care of you, Mary, but there are still things I require when a willing sub is in my bed.” “Yes, sir,” she muttered, moving her legs closer to his head, hoping to confine him. Glancing up, he slapped her pussy. “Wait for me.” She’d agitated him, and she saw the irritation in his firmly set jaw and narrowed gaze. He studied her body as if she were a special delivery he needed to inspect before signing off his approval. She lay there quietly, her body heating, her sex clenching. And that’s when the first of many slow and indulgent licks set fire to her pussy, and the flames that surrounded her were too numerous to contain. Within seconds, she was bucking, arching, and calling Brock’s name. **** He let her have what was hers to own. Under normal circumstances, he might have stopped his submissive from taking the orgasm he helped them claim, but Mary was different. She needed him, and she certainly needed this. He lapped at her sweet juices as he fingered her, licking around the folds, nibbling her sex, before lodging his tongue inside her vibrating channel. She was coming, silently and timidly. Her body trembled as she took her orgasm, and he didn’t prohibit her from finding her pleasure and riding out her climax. Sucking her clit, he inserted one finger, two, flicking his tongue up and down, thrusting inside her until the only taste he knew was Mary, the woman he wanted to love, protect, honor, and cherish. How did he tell her? What would he say? More importantly, how would she react? “Brock,” she whispered, rising up to watch him. “Stop, please.” “Not a chance,” he whispered, blowing a steady stream of air over her tender folds and observing as she jerked. “Enjoy me, sub. Take advantage of our first night together. Trust me. I’m not always this agreeable.” Mary drifted into another state, acceptance washing over her face as she collapsed against the pillows and spread her legs still wider. He used his fingers to part her damp lips and feasted

on her sweet taste, bringing her to climax all over again and nearly insulted when she didn’t cry out his name like before. Brock lapped up the heat dripping from her, screwing his tongue inside her channel until he wanted to believe he’d become a part of her. But when she cried out for mercy, he could only think of one way to extend leniency. He slipped away from the bed, sheathed himself, and towered over her. He didn’t pause. He didn’t miss a beat. He thrust inside her and was balls deep with the first stroke, taking what he now viewed as his to claim. Mary was his woman, and perhaps she had been for some time. She could deny the feelings now, but she’d possess them later. Her soft eyes watered as he fucked her, but soon she was wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him to her, bracketing her legs around his waist and riding his cock, begging for deeper penetration. “Slow down, sub. I won’t make it if you don’t…hold up!” “I can’t, Brock,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me wait. Please give me what I want. What I need.” So he did what any man would do. He shoved her hands high above her head, latched onto one of those beautiful, pointed nipples and screwed her as if he’d never stop. His cock slid in and out of her sleek pussy until her body consumed his, inspiring him to take more, pump harder. A jet of his semen shot free, filling the condom he wore. He collapsed against her as she clung to him, raking her nails over his shoulders and arms. “Oh Brock, what have I done?” He wondered the same. He’d taken her hard and reckless, without regard for anything more than his own selfish needs. Even so, he told himself over and over again that this was what she needed, what she couldn’t live without. Mary longed for a man, and he wanted to be the one she relied on from that day forward. Reluctantly, he looked up and was—thank God—pleasantly surprised to find the sated appearance of one well-satisfied woman. While sorrow existed in her eyes, a great deal of something mighty close to appreciation seeped into her warm gaze as well. “No regrets, Mary,” he said. She swallowed hard as he caressed her, and he tried his best to encourage her to mirror his smile. “Please tell me you don’t regret this.” She shrugged. “Do you?”

“Are you kidding me? That was incredible.” “You know I still love my husband.” Brock took a deep breath and reached a decision then. He refused to play second best to a dead man. And Lucas Worthington was dead. Now, he had to convince Mary to leave him in the grave. **** Hours later, Mary slid away from the mattress. She stared down at the sleeping giant occupying the greatest part of her bed then tiptoed to her closet where she retrieved a red silk robe. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she wrapped the material around her body and tied the sash. She immediately hurried toward the door. “Mary?” “I’ll be right back,” she said, determined to get away, if for no other reason than to pull herself together before she faced him once more. “Now, sub.” “Brock…” “I won’t ask again.” Slowly, she turned around. “Don’t do this.” Brock rolled his tongue over his parched lips. “Whether you admit it now or later, you belong to me. You can run, but you’ll never escape. You can avoid the truth all you want, but that won’t change things. I felt how you responded to me, and I know you felt our connection, too. That’s why you’re trying to get out of here as fast as you can.” “We had a moment,” she began. “That’s all it was.” Brock leapt from the bed and grabbed her around the waist. “A moment?” “Yes,” she deadpanned. “Is that really what you want to call this?” Mary was taken aback by the intensity lingering behind his tormented eyes. What did he expect? Hadn’t she warned him about this? Hadn’t she explained how much she still adored and loved her husband? Maybe to Brock, Luke was dead. In her mind, Luke was on another extended tour, but tours ended, and Luke always weathered the storm. He’d come home. She still had faith, and

she’d carry that conviction all the way to the end of time, until the military produced Luke’s body! “Mary, answer me. Do you really want me to believe that we had a moment and nothing more?” “Yes, Brock. I’m sure you’re quite used to the concept. Most adults call these things onenight-stands. I’m not sure how you want me to refer to last night, but that’s all it was—a fling.” Brock’s mouth curved into a smile. “Well baby, I hate to tell you this, but I ain’t much for flings. I’m more interested in the real thing, and I happen to think I have a hold of something mighty damn close to the best a man can find.” A beat later, he said, “I’m not letting you go, Mary. But I made a mistake last night.” “What? By sleeping with me?” He narrowed his gaze on her chest. “By letting you think you’ll wear the pants in this relationship. I don’t play games with subs, sugar, but I gave you what I thought you needed most because that’s what compassionate Doms do. They’re in tune with their submissive partners. Next time, things will be different with us.” “There won’t be a next time.” “Oh yes, there will.” She pursed her lips. “That bothers you, doesn’t it?” Mary squirmed. Brock’s grip tightened. “Tell me you’re not used to stubborn men.” She glared at him. “I wish I could, but the truth is, I seem to only attract men with attitudes.” “Count yourself lucky. One thing about it, you’ll never be bored.” “I’m not looking for a relationship.” “Too bad,” Brock said, acting as if he enjoyed Mary’s defiant side. “You should’ve thought of that before you spread your legs for a man who likes being between them. Because now that I’ve visited there, I feel right at home.” **** Somewhere in Afghanistan “He says his name is Lieutenant Lucas Worthington,” someone said in the distance.

“Worthington?” A deep voice resounded in the distance. “Are you sure?” “Positive,” the same voice quickly replied. “Does he have any identification?” “No, sir.” “But you’re sure he’s an American?” “Oh, no question. The guy has a thick Southern accent.” “Let me talk to him.” Luke tried to open his eyes. He’d made it to Bagram Airfield. After months of crawling in the sand, eating and drinking what he could find, he’d finally spotted the control tower and support buildings. Now, he could finally rest. “Son, are you with the United States Navy?” Luke’s head rolled to the side. His mouth was so dry. He couldn’t open his eyes now. The dust was heavy in his lids. He blinked, tried to make out the figures and shapes approaching him. Was he delusional? Had he even made it to Bagram, or was this an illusion? He gasped for air, but his next breath was more labored than the last. His breathing remained uneven and burdened. He’d survived and escaped days of torture, but where was he now? Maybe the buildings he saw were in fact occupied by the enemy. “Are you Lieutenant Lucas Worthington?” “Mary,” he whispered, remembering her sweet smile, her loving kiss, and the way she’d begged him not to come back here. Why had he signed on for another tour? What had he been thinking? Why hadn’t he listened when Mary begged him, when she told him she longed to start a family? “Son, can you hear me?” He saw a bright light and reached for the sun. Mary. Mary. Mary. Then the world went dark.

Chapter Eight

“What’s he doing out there?” Mary asked, chewing on her thumbnail. Anna peered out the window again. “It looks like he’s putting some kind of device on your car.” “Are you serious?” Mary asked, swinging the door open and starting outside. She’d survived three days of this arrogant ass, and now he was putting something on her car? “Just who the hell does he think he is?” Anna shrugged. “What can I say, I think he likes you.” “He’s a very possessive man, Anna. The man isn’t right,” Mary told her, pointing to her temple. “He has a few loose screws.” “He looks normal to me,” Anna said, grinning. “Man o’man, I never thought I’d see the day when another man got to you like Brock has.” “Got to me? Are you kidding?” Mary asked, raising her voice an octave. “He’s on my last nerve!” “You have plenty more,” Anna assured her. “Remember who you’re talking to here. I’ve been on your last nerve for the last dozen years or so. Besides, like I said, he looks okay to me. I think you’re overreacting.” “Of course you would. You wanted to set us up in the first place,” Mary chirped. “Besides, any man with tight jeans and a big dick looks okay as far as you’re concerned.” “So he has a big penis, does he?” “I never said that,” Mary told her. “Yes, you did. Just then.”

Mary felt her skin heat. She was not having this conversation with her sister. Besides, she was pissed at Anna. Who in the hell did she think she was, anyway? She not only introduced them, she gave Brock her stamp of approval, and apparently thought it was a-okay for him to burst into her life and take charge like a committed man. “I’m not buying that you don’t like him for a minute,” Anna remarked, studying her recently painted fingernails. “Besides, Mary, if you’ve already fucked him, you’ve gotten past any possible intimacy issues. Now, the two of you can have a good time together. Is that so bad?” “I should tell Brock he picked the wrong sister,” Mary grumbled. “We’re friends.” “Damn shame, you couldn’t have been friends with benefits.” “I’m afraid the perks wouldn’t have impressed me,” Anna said. Mary immediately turned her gaze toward her sister. “Why? What’s wrong with him?” “Nothing,” Anna assured her. “I just don’t like the domineering type.” “That’s a crock, and you know it,” Mary told her, glaring at Brock still harder. “This will be over before it starts.” “I don’t think so,” Anna sang. Mary continued to stare outside. She watched as Brock fingered a few wires then knotted them together. “Is he hotwiring my car or rigging it so he’ll always know where I am?” “I have no idea. Why don’t you ask him?” “I think I will,” Mary retorted, marching outside. She was aware of Anna trailing behind her. “Brock, what pray tell are you doing?” Brock looked over her shoulder and grinned. Anna snickered behind her. Evidently, Brock and Anna were having a hell of a good time at her expense. “I’m working on a little something for your car.” “What?” “It’s nothing for you to worry about.” “Oh really?” Mary asked, stomping her foot. “Are you putting some kind of device on my vehicle so you’ll know where I am at all times?” “You really think I’m that possessive over you after one time in the sack?”

“Brock!” Mary exclaimed, feeling embarrassed that he’d say something so flamboyant in front of her sister. “Don’t worry about me, Mary,” Anna said. “I already know you fucked him.” Brock winked. “She couldn’t keep good news like that to herself.” “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Mary persisted, ignoring Anna. “A lot,” Brock said, shooting her a wink and slapping her ass in passing. Anna laughed, and Mary jerked, the jolt of being smacked on the rear igniting a raging need that would be hard to ignore. Anna strolled by them. “Give the guy a break.” A beat later, she turned to Brock and said, “I wouldn’t put that past you, by the way. I can see you tracking her.” Mary narrowed her gaze. “That’s the sad thing. I can see you doing that, too!” “Good, because that’s exactly what I’m doing.” Mary immediately felt the blood drain from her face. Her pulse increased, and much to her dismay, she truly panicked. “You can’t do that.” “Watch me,” he told her stubbornly, twisting those wires together before inserting them inside some kind of metal box. “This is one of my own designs. I trust electronics about like I trust my government to always have my back. Believe me, if you try to run from me, I’ll find you.” Anna shrugged. “That’s what you call a determined man.” Mary snarled. “Or my first intuition is right. He ain’t right, Anna!” “Ain’t?” Anna asked. “Oh boy, Brock, you’ve done it now. When Mary’s grammar goes to pots, you’re in for trouble with a capital T.” “As long as she doesn’t have a foul mouth like her sister, we’ll get along fine.” “I do,” Mary said about the time Anna informed him of the same. “She isn’t lying. She could teach us new words.” “I doubt that,” Brock said, still playing with his man toy. “As much as I hate to run, I have a condominium to show an anxious buyer. You two lovebirds go inside and play house a few more days before you try to go out on the town together.” “My thoughts exactly,” Brock said, looking at Mary as if he thought she should just strip right there on the sidewalk.

Anna popped a kiss on Mary’s cheek. “Be thankful for what you have, Mary. Most women would love to have a man like Brock watching their every move.” “I’m sure,” she retorted, thinking she didn’t see Anna rushing out to meet an egotistical hard-ass. Oh no, her sister wouldn’t put up with someone like Brock for longer than a few minutes. After Anna disappeared behind the wheel of her sports coupe and cranked the engine, Brock said, “Want to take a look at what I’ve done here?” “Want to tell me what this is all about?” “Not really.” “Are you always this possessive over women you just meet?” “Nope,” he replied, confirming her fears. Good God, he reminded her of Luke! They were two peas in a pod. She held her breath as she watched him. Soon, she’d have to teach Brock the same lessons she’d once taught Luke. She’d cook him to mush and embarrass him when it mattered. Maybe then, he’d realize he couldn’t just storm into her life and take control of a woman who didn’t belong to him. Like that would do any good. If Luke had taught her anything at all, it was that a stubborn Dom was hard to handle once he’d set his sights on a submissive woman he wanted to claim for his own. And there wasn’t any doubt, Brock planned to stick around. He already thought she belonged to him anyhow. “I’ll take the car to a mechanic and have the device removed.” “Go ahead. I can reinstall another one in a flash.” “Why are you doing this?” “Because I can.” A beat later, he added, “And because down deep, this is what you want.” “Like hell it is.” “Sure you don’t want to have a look?” “No,” Mary replied, rushing back inside. This was too much, and he was moving way too fast. How in the hell had she gotten herself in this situation? She knew the answer to that. If she’d kept her pants up, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. “Have it your way, my little sub muffin!” Brock called out before she slammed the door.

She immediately stilled. Sub muffin? Humph, if she had things her way, Brock Taylor would be back where he belonged—on the base in a barracks or wherever the hell he lived. Where he wouldn’t be was in her front yard preparing a rig that would inevitably track her every move. No, this didn’t work for her. Not in any shape, form or fashion. **** “Oh my God, what have you done to me?” Mary exclaimed. She dropped against Brock’s body after back-to-back orgasms sent her spinning. “You’re sensational,” he whispered against her hair, his cock still pulsing inside her. “Hmm…” she agreed, sated. “To think I wanted to wring your neck a few hours ago.” “You gave it your best shot,” he promised her, his fingers trailing up and down her spine. Mary rested her cheek against his warm body. His chest hairs tickled her face, and she inhaled his male scent, the rich fragrance of aftershave and cologne. After Brock convinced Mary the tracking device he placed on her car was for her own good, and did so without supporting facts, but rather by using pure male persuasion, Mary reached a conclusion. For whatever reason, Brock was interested in her. He knew how she felt about the husband she lost. He apparently understood she wasn’t interested in seeing anyone replace him. Still, he remained steadfast in his quest. Perhaps he would only be here today. Maybe he’d stay for a week or two, but regardless of what his intentions were, Mary was certain of one thing. She and Brock had a sizzling connection. They enjoyed real chemistry. She’d felt comfortable with him from the beginning. What they shared was rare. She understood that better than anyone. Mary knew from her own previous experience. She and Brock were living in the early days of a relationship bound to lead them somewhere together.

Chapter Nine

Six Months Later Gatlinburg, Tennessee

Mary was on pins and needles. She hadn’t seen Brock in three months, but even though his mission was classified, he’d been able to call her several times a week. They’d spoken often, and when he proposed, she was elated. The proposal came as a complete surprise, and while his confession of endearing love wasn’t necessarily presented in the traditional manner—on bended knee with ring in hand—it was by far one of the most romantic moments of her life. He’d placed a collect call, and the operator had asked if Mary Worthington would accept a call from her fiancé, Brock Taylor. When she’d said yes, they’d shared a few laughs then he’d said, “The operator didn’t make a mistake. I want to marry you if you’ll have me.” Of course, she’d said yes. And like most brides-to-be, she’d cried. Later, she’d spent hours on the phone with her sister. She and Anna had a lot to do in a short period of time, and now, here they were. The big day had finally arrived. “Do you think he’ll be here?” Mary asked, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. “Honey,” Anna said, touching her cheek, “he’ll be here.” Anna studied her reflection in the mirror again. She wore a sleek chiffon wedding gown with wide straps over her shoulders completely adorned by sequins that led to a full back of cascading ruffles dropping from the waist down. The fitted bodice was flattering, and the ivory color was appropriate for a second marriage. She wore flashy diamond teardrop earrings Anna

loaned her, and the garter she’d worn from her first marriage, something she, Anna, and Brock had discussed. Sliding her foot through the garter, she said, “Brock has been so understanding.” “About?” Anna asked, arching a brow. “Never mind,” she whispered. In recent months, Mary had trouble saying Luke’s name aloud. Things had progressed rapidly between her and Brock, and she loved him. She loved him with all her heart, and while she carried Luke with her, and felt she always would, Brock was her future. She didn’t want to take away from the love the two of them shared. “Honey, are you okay?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” Mary asked, picking up a handheld mirror and checking out her up-do. Anna was brilliant with hair and make-up, and she’d painstakingly held her breath as she worked like a professional stylist until she achieved the perfect ballerina twist. Anna placed her hands on Mary’s shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze. “Luke is here with you. I know he is.” Mary gasped, dabbing the corners of her eyes. “You’re right. He is.” She wheeled around to face Anna. “Now, let’s talk about you. Want me to try to copy this hairstyle for you?” Anna twirled a lock of hair around her forefinger. “Honey, I’m content to wear my hair down. This is your day. I’m not worried about this mess.” Studying her hair again, Mary admired her sister’s handiwork. Secured by rhinestones and pearl hairpins, her hair was swept completely away from her face. She closed her eyes and thought of Brock’s hands at her cheeks. She could almost see his bright blue eyes lighting up, as they often did, when he saw her. “He loves me, right?” she asked, turning to her sister. “You’re his heart, Mary.” “He’s mine,” she assured her, picking up the hairbrush. “Now, sit down. I want to attempt to give you an up-do, too.” “So now I’m supposed to oblige the bride?” “Yes, ma’am,” she said, giving her a gentle hug. “We still have some time before Brock arrives. Let me make you beautiful.” A beat later she added, “Not that you need help. You’re still the loveliest lady in the land.”

“Says you,” Anna said. “But look at you standing there in a wedding dress again. You’ve been down the aisle twice, and I’ve yet to make it the first time.” A soft sensation lapped at Mary’s ear, like a ghost whispering a reminder of lost time, taking her breath away. She swallowed hard, forced a smile, and looked in the mirror, staring into her sister’s eyes. “Mary, it’s okay to cry,” Anna told her. “You must have mixed emotions.” “I’ll go to my grave loving two men. I’ll never forget Luke or the love we shared, but I’ll always love Brock. Oddly enough, I believe Brock is my soul mate. Luke was the love of my life.” “Is there a difference?” Anna asked. “For me, yes,” she said, running the brush through Anna’s long hair. “Wanna talk about it?” Mary paused, and then tapping the brush against her open palm, attempted to explain. “Brock finishes my sentences, knows what I’m thinking before I say it, and is my true other half. Luke was my first love, and we had a whirlwind romance, the kind of love that was unshakeable, strong enough to move mountains.” “You don’t think you have that with Brock?” “Yes,” she replied. “Our love is different. That’s all. One isn’t, or wasn’t, better than the other.” When tears formed in her eyes, she quickly set to task working on styling her maid of honor’s hair. Glancing at the clock, she said, “He’ll be here, right?” “He’ll move the mountains out of his way to get to this wedding chapel, sweetie.” “You’re right,” she said, still curious as to why Brock chose a wedding chapel in the mountains for exchanging their vows. “Do you think he’s been working stateside or overseas?” “How would I know?” Anna asked. “I don’t know anything about the military or the tasks the men in uniform perform.” “You just like the men that wear those dress whites and tight pants, right?” “You got it,” Anna told her, grinning. “Now, hurry up and fix my hair. Otherwise, you’ll be late to your own wedding.” ****

Brock wore his blue evening dress uniform at Mary’s request. Since she chose an ivory dress, she didn’t want him to wear the more appropriate summer whites. Then again, what he wore probably didn’t matter. If she’d missed him as he’d longed for her, after the ceremony and reception, clothing wouldn’t be required. After he arrived at the chapel, he was escorted to the groom’s dressing quarters. It had taken everything in him not to rush down the hall screaming Mary’s name. They’d been apart three months, and every agonizing hour they weren’t together was like a shot through his heart. “Knock, knock,” Anna said, entering without awaiting his permission. “Hey, look at you! I never knew you cleaned up so well.” “I do amazing things for that wife of mine,” Brock said, giving her a hug. “It’s good to see you, sister-in-law.” Anna pulled away and shook her head. “Boy, you have it bad for my little sister, don’t you? You’re already referring to me as an in-law and talking sweet about your wife.” He took a deep breath and shrugged. “In some ways, I believe Mary belonged to me from the time Luke told me about her. It was certainly a fated love. If you only knew how slim the likelihood was for Luke and me to work together, or for me to stop and help a damsel in distress on the side of the road without taking her home and banging her, then you’d understand.” “We’ve been over this,” Anna said. “We would’ve killed one another.” Brock winked. “I still like to tease you. Thank God, we hit it off as friends from the start. I would’ve hated to find out later that you were the sister of the gal I planned to marry.” “By the time you met me, you were already smitten, anyway.” “You’re right,” he agreed. “I’d listened to hours of Mary-stories. Luke believed she was the only topic worth discussing when we stood watch late at night.” “And you had better women to talk about?” Anna asked, a smile tilting her lips. “I’m standing here today. What do you think?” “My sister missed you,” Anna said, changing the subject abruptly. “I hope so,” he said, digging in his pocket. Opening a ring box, he quickly added, “What do you think?” “Wow!” Anna said, leaning back as if the gleam from the ring would blind her. “That cost you a fortune.” He shrugged. “She’s worth all three carats.”

Anna shook her head. “What the hell did you do? Rob a jewelry store?” “I’ve saved a lot of money. That’s the great thing about being a soldier—if you don’t want to spend a dime, you don’t have to. I waited a long time for the right lady to win my heart.” “She has that, too. Doesn’t she, Brock?” Anna asked, raising suspicion. “You have to ask?” A beat later, he felt the frown turning his smile upside down. “She’s having doubts, isn’t she?” “No. Are you kidding me? I don’t think she’s ever been more certain of anything in her life.” “I hope that’s right,” Brock said, working the kinks out of his neck. “There for a minute, you worried me.” “I just want you to tell me you love my sister.” Brock took hold of her wrists and said, “Mary is the only woman for me, Anna. If she walked out of this chapel today and decided she didn’t want to marry me, I would never propose to another woman. She’s the beat in my chest, the twinkle in my eye, the smile on my face. I will love her without reservations, without conditions, until the day I die.” Anna patted his cheek and backed away. “Thank you, Brock.” “You don’t have to thank me.” “Yes, I do. Thank you for assuring me of the love I’m certain Mary must feel from you.” She slipped out the same door she came in, and Brock stood at the window watching the sun as it started its descent behind the magnificent Smoky Mountains. He thought of the Afghanistan sunset he’d seen near the Pakistan border just the week before. In a country so filled with terrorist activity, Afghanistan still sported picturesque character, true natural beauty. Brock rubbed the side of his face as he thought of the reasons he’d been asked to return to Kabul. He considered his own decision for leaving on the special assignment. They were supposed to bring home several soldiers, men Brock knew well. He’d returned to Afghanistan against his better judgment and uncertain of what he might discover. Another Marine, a friend who’d fought with him when he and Luke were overseas together, turned up alive, swearing several men the government declared dead were in fact still breathing. Brock hadn’t mentioned anything to Mary, and now he questioned that decision and wondered what it was he’d been trying to hide.

Had he kept the secret to stay true to his job, or to protect himself? Was he afraid Luke was alive or anxious to see an old friend? Was he secure in his love for Mary, and her love for him, that he never doubted for a minute whether or not she’d marry him, if in fact Luke returned, or was he afraid of a rejection if she discovered the main purpose for his return to Afghanistan? Pacing the room, he glanced out the window. A soldier in dress whites left the building with his head down, walking up a cobblestone pathway. Brock inched closer to the glass, studying the man as he walked away from the chapel. A knock fell against the door, and he turned away from the glass for a second. When he returned to the task of eyeing the man who looked somewhat familiar, the man in uniform was gone. Brock greeted his guest and accepted a letter from a courier. He shut the door and took a seat on a nearby chair, fully expecting a letter from Mary. Instead, behind the flap, Brock discovered a note written in handwriting he recognized:

Old Friend, I’ll be damned if you didn’t win again. Seems I’m always at the wrong place at the wrong time, and you’re always at the right place at the best time. I can’t ask you to stop a wedding you’ve obviously rushed, nor would I. As you’ve probably heard from the military intelligence briefings, there are several of us dead men walking, soldiers without a place, men without a home. And I don’t expect to come back into Mary’s life and take my place as her husband after she’s grieved me. I know of the heartache I caused her, and she’s better off without me, so long as she has you. The guys and me…we can’t return home. Most of us have nothing waiting for us now. I’m sure that’s why you came to Afghanistan asking your questions, digging for information. You probably suspected I was still alive when no one else believed it was possible. I want to thank you for that. I know in my heart, at some point you were my friend, and even though you now lay down next to my wife, I know too that you wouldn’t have been a soldier to leave a good man behind, a man you considered a fellow friend, like a brother. Still, that doesn’t make this letter any easier to write. Mary is happy with you. I’ve watched her as she’s planned for this day, this big day that never should’ve been, and she has that glow about her. You make her happy. I should know. She had that same spectacular smile when she was with me.

Rather than find the anger that will certainly surface at some point, I’ve chosen to be glad for you and for her. At the same time, I think it’s important that you know…I’m alive. What you do with that knowledge is your business. As your friend, I’ll wish you well. Today is a special day for you and Mary. I don’t want to cause her pain. She’s your woman. She’s different now. I’ve seen significant changes as I’ve watched her. And while I’ve longed to go to her and tell her I didn’t die, I’m not sure that’s my place. Honestly, after what I heard about how she coped with losing me, I’m not sure she could take losing one of us all over again, and we both know that’s what would happen. I don’t know how Mary would respond to the news that I’m alive. You know her better than I do. She’s fragile, and I don’t want to hurt her by reentering her life when the time isn’t right, and obviously, the date of her wedding isn’t the best day to resurface. I remember one time you asked me to share her, and I immediately turned you down. It’s only fair that I ask the same, but I know what your answer will be. I also understand what you must’ve gone through all those months ago when you were the man on the outside, the man at the gates, awaiting an entry you never expected to be granted. I miss you, friend. I do. I love you, too. You were like a brother to me. I choose to believe that’s why you’re with Mary now. I sort of think you were looking out for me by looking out for Mary. Be the kind of man she deserves, Brock. Stay at her side and love her. Love her for both of us. Luke

Brock crumpled the note in his hand and stared across the room through moist eyes fiercely burning. A mix of emotions spun through his veins—anger above all else. Luke was indeed alive, but he hadn’t told them? He’d been watching Mary, knew of their engagement, but rather than approach them in Beaufort, or show his face in Afghanistan where he may have been when Brock was there searching for him, he decided to what? Reappear on his wedding day and expect Brock to make a choice in how to handle breaking the news to Mary? He read the letter again. This time, when he finished reading Luke’s words, his heart threatened to stop. Luke wanted Mary to know he was alive. He hoped Brock would tell her the truth. And if he didn’t?

Then Brock would marry a woman who already had a husband.

Chapter Ten

Mary was jittery. She couldn’t stand still. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. When Brock first proposed, he’d assured her he would take care of everything. He’d also agreed to keep their ceremony brief and invited guests to a minimum. Mary didn’t want to look out over a crowded church and see the faces of strangers. Brock promised an intimate setting with a few close friends, somewhere quiet so afterward, they could spend some time together before Brock left again. He’d taken care of everything, from hiring a minister to planning their honeymoon. A friend of his, someone Mary didn’t know, met him at Knoxville’s McGhee Tyson Airport, a short distance away, and drove him to Gatlinburg. After they were married, they’d honeymoon a few days in the mountains. Brock would leave for another month then rejoin her in Beaufort where they’d start their lives together. Mary swallowed hard. She looked down at her trembling hands then wondered how much time she and Brock had been allotted. Would she know the heartache of losing the man she believed was her second chance at love? Or would they have the luxury of growing old together, of sitting side by side in rocking chairs as they listened to one another grumble about what to fix for dinner or what to watch on television? Anna straightened Mary’s veil then smoothed her palm over her short train. She slid a kiss on her cheek and squeezed her hand. “Are you ready, lady?” “I can’t wait,” Mary told her, walking toward the chapel entrance. “I know that’s true,” Anna said, swinging open the double doors leading to the sanctuary. As soon as the doors parted, Mary’s breath drifted away. There, at the end of the aisle, stood quite possibly the most handsome man in the world. Dressed in his elegant navy blue suit,

Brock looked like he’d just stepped away from a formal inspection. The dark material was trimmed in red, and large gold buttons lined the front. He wore the white hat with blue brim and his coat was decorated in ribbons and marksmanship badges in lieu of medals. She noticed everything about him as she walked down the aisle, quickly separating the distance between them. His eyes met and held hers before she ever started strolling across the white runner rolled down the chapel’s center. Carrying a small bouquet of assorted spring flowers, Mary couldn’t help but catch an occasional hint of the fresh fragrance as she slowly approached the man she’d marry, the one she’d grown to adore. The music began to play. Three or four steps into the wedding march, she noticed a true sadness in Brock’s eyes, something she’d never seen before. Brock was distraught, deeply troubled by something. Reaching him, she took his hand and he slid a quick peck on her lips. “I missed you,” he said, though he didn’t smile. He squeezed her fingers, and together they walked toward the minister who stood in front of the small altar. Facing one another then, Brock cupped her cheek and dropped a kiss on her lips again. “I will always love you. Never doubt that, okay?” “You know I won’t,” Mary assured him, wondering why he was acting so strange. The minister then turned to Brock. “Mary tells me you’ve written your own vows.” Brock took a deep breath, and with a slight nod to indicate that was accurate, he waited for the minister to greet their guests. “We are gathered here today…” the minister began. Mary zoned out then. She studied Brock’s worrisome expression and wondered if their time apart had been a blessing or a curse. Had he decided, after he proposed, that he didn’t love her? Or did the look on his face have absolutely nothing to do with her? Had he been on a tour that he wouldn’t soon forget? Had he drawn his gun, killed for his country, and ultimately taken the lives of strangers because it was his job, his duty? Before Mary’s angst took hold and apprehension gained the best of her, the minister said, “Mary? Do you have something you’d like to share with Brock today?” Mary smiled, handed off her bouquet to Anna, and slid her hands in Brock’s, prepared to recite her vows. “I love you,” she began.

“I know,” he rasped, leaning forward and grinning this time. Finally, the Brock she knew and loved resurfaced. She could do this now. She was reassured of his love, and the fact that he must’ve wanted to marry her. After all, she reminded herself, he’d proposed on the phone in order for them to make plans to wed as soon as he secured a granted leave. Glancing down at their adjoined hands, she noticed the way the tremors suddenly subsided. And that’s when she changed her mind about the vows she’d written and decided to speak from the heart. “Your hand steadies me. Your voice calms me. Your touch grounds me. Your kiss soothes me. Your body feeds me. Your love makes me whole.” A beat later she added, “I’m proud to take you as my husband. I’m proud to say you chose me as your wife.” She took her time describing precisely how she felt about the man who’d stormed into her life without warning, without regard for the grief he refused to let her face alone. Brock was her rock. He was her foundation. He was destined to become her husband. She smiled at him then, tilted her head to indicate that’s all she wanted to say, and he recited his vows. “Your eyes seduce me. Your beauty intoxicates me. Your kiss invigorates me. You have captured my mind, my body, my heart, and my soul. You make me the man I’ve always wanted to be. I will love you more than you ever thought you could be loved. This is my promise, forever.” About that time, Brock pursed his lips and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were full of tears, but the tears threatening to spill were not joyous or sentiments held for a special celebration. Something had changed between them. Before Mary could ask him what was wrong, he answered all her questions. “As much as I can promise to forever love you, I cannot marry you.” Anna gasped behind her. Mary stared at him blankly. Her heart threatened to collapse right there as she awaited an explanation. “Brock?” She finally managed to say his name as her pulse quickened and her nerves shattered around her. “Why are you doing this?” He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and with every inch of the soldier coming forward in what she translated as cool arrogance and false pride, he slipped a kiss on her cheek, and with tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, he said, “You aren’t mine to claim.” “What do you mean I’m not yours?” Mary screeched, glancing at Anna, who looked as confused as she felt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mary,” he assured her, peeling away the tight fingers wrapped around his wrist. “I still can’t marry you.” He turned his back to her and took the first step away from the minister. As Mary’s jaw dropped, she stood there with her arms at her sides, searching the eyes of those in the congregation—four military couples she didn’t know, but apparently just as curious as she was about the groom’s sudden change of heart. Brock had almost reached the door when she lost it. “This is what you do, isn’t it?” A beat later, she screamed at those there to witness a marriage that wouldn’t happen, “This is what all of you do. You leave! It doesn’t matter if it’s in the dead of winter or the highest heat of summer. It doesn’t matter if you have children to care for or dying parents in their beds. You don’t care who you leave behind, because all that matters, all that’s important, is fighting for the next cause, drawing your weapons for the next battle that will never be won!” She clenched her fists. Anna didn’t stop her. The rage grabbed hold and Mary continued, “You’re cowards. All of you! That’s what you are! You use the military to protect you because you don’t want to love freely or without conditions. You don’t want family responsibilities because you don’t want anyone to get close enough to destroy you like you know you’re destined to devastate them!” Brock kept walking. His body was rigid. His head bowed. “That’s right, you go, Brock Taylor. You go and don’t you ever look back! Do you hear me?” Tears streamed down her face. She turned to Anna and searched her sister’s eyes. Anna tilted her head and cried too. “Honey, I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for her. “Let me go talk to him.” “No,” Mary said, shaking her head vehemently. “If he doesn’t want me, I’ll live alone. I’ve been humiliated enough.” “I told you to love her.” A loud rasp overpowered the whispers in the chapel. “I didn’t ask you to leave her.” The recognizable voice filled the chapel and stilled her heart. “Oh my God,” Anna whispered, lifting her head and staring at someone behind Mary. “You know Mary’s right. You’re a coward, Brock Taylor.” Brock turned to face his accuser. Mary searched his eyes and saw how much he loved her, saw how much he was willing to sacrifice, and she slowly turned to see who stood behind

her, recognizing every inch of the hard flesh covered in dress whites. “Oh my God,” she choked out, her hand covering her mouth. “This can’t be.” “Hi, doll,” Luke drawled. “Did you miss me?”

Chapter Eleven

Mary had a little problem. So as far as she was concerned, she could lie on that church floor until the cows came home. She hoped they didn’t arrive anytime soon. It was better to pretend she was still out cold than to open her eyes and acknowledge the facts. Luke was there, and for some reason, he chose one hell of a time to come back. “Mary,” Brock said gently, gathering her in his arms. “Honey, are you okay?” Sure. She was perfect. What the hell did he think? She was about to marry the person she loved, the man who saved her from despair, and the source behind her grief walked back into her life and chose quite possibly the most inconvenient time to do that. She was just swell, so great in fact, that she didn’t think she’d ever survive the fallout from all this chaos. Then there was the obvious—Luke was alive! The husband she thought she’d lost had returned to her. “Mary? Mary, honey, sit up,” Anna encouraged her, swiping her brow with a wet rag. “Just what were the two of you thinking?” A beat later, she addressed Luke. “You’re something else, you know that? When did you decide to live again, hmm? What are you doing here, Luke? Hmm? Why would you wait until Mary had a stab at happiness to do this?” Another second passed and she said, “And you, I expected more from you, Brock. How could you do this? How could you walk out on her? Don’t you know how much she fears being left behind by those she loves most?” “This isn’t his fault, Anna,” Luke said, brushing his knuckles across Mary’s arm. “He had no idea I was even alive until I had a letter delivered here right before the ceremony.” “What happened to staying dead?” Brock asked accusingly. “What happened to wanting her happy?”

“Well, your dumb ass kind of changed all that, didn’t it? If you hadn’t decided to be all noble and walk away from the best thing in your life, I would’ve stayed behind the pulpit and let the two of you be pronounced husband and wife.” “If I’d only known this would happen, maybe I would’ve done just that,” Brock snapped. This couldn’t be happening. What on earth had Luke been thinking? Why hadn’t Brock told her of some letter delivered before their ceremony? They could’ve talked about it, discussed what they wanted to do. And risked Luke never showing his face again? That’s why Brock had responded to her as he did. He knew Luke would run if they married. Her heart threatened to skip multiple beats as she thought of Brock’s sacrifice, of what he was willing to forfeit in order to give her what he must’ve believed she wanted most—the dead husband she’d already learned to live without. “I guess we’ll have to call the rescue squad,” Luke said, mockery in his voice. Damn him for using what he knew about her to make her come to. Just who did he think he was? “I’ll make the call,” Anna said, playing right into his hands. Mary moaned then opened her eyes. “Hiya beautiful,” Luke said, grinning from ear to ear. “I thought that might get your attention. Whatta you say you sit up here and kiss me, welcome me home?” Mary was reeling then. With help from her sister and Brock, she sat. Luke winked. “How’s my girl?” Before she thought, she smacked his face, immediately telling him, “Better now. You?” Luke narrowed his gaze on her dress, unshaken by the slap she delivered. “You still look as beautiful as I remember.” “Your timing always sucked,” she said to him, turning to address Brock, too. “And you? You knew he was alive, and your answer to the problem was to walk away from the greatest love you’ve ever known?” “I’m sorry, Mary,” Brock whispered. “I don’t want your apologies,” she snapped, looking down at her wrinkled wedding dress. “I need to be alone.” Luke studied her face. “I thought you might want to consider that wedding. You know, since the family is all here.”

Mary glanced at Anna, and Anna shook her head. As if she needed her sister’s wisdom. She knew better than to pull herself together and go through with this wedding. “I need to talk to Anna,” she said, immediately deciding a little time alone was better than being on the floor of the chapel where she wouldn’t marry Brock Taylor. The men helped her to her feet, and Luke touched her cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you, Mary.” Too angry to cry and unsure of how she felt about either man she’d loved, she turned toward Anna. “Get me out of here,” she whispered. Anna nodded, took her hand, and they fled the chapel. They never even bothered to return to the bride’s room to collect Mary’s belongings. **** “You’re one dumb son-of-a-bitch,” Luke said, entering the groom’s dressing room. He approached the wet bar and poured himself a glass of water. “If I’d known you were going to leave her at the altar, I would’ve gone to her myself and let her know I was still alive.” “And why didn’t you?” Brock said accusingly, glaring at the man he still thought of as his best friend, though he wasn’t sure why. Luke pursed his lips. “I loved her.” “You still love her.” “I ain’t gonna deny that,” Luke said, shaking his head. “She still makes my heart beat a little faster.” A moment later, he said, “I used to get sick to my stomach when I would think about another man touching her.” Brock frowned. “I imagine you’ve been ill a lot here lately.” “Should I kill you now or tell you what happened first? You know, so you can go to your grave understanding why I couldn’t get home as quickly as I might have liked?” Brock sniffed at that, poured himself a glass of water, and said, “I’ve read the files. I know what happened to you and the rest of our men.” “I appreciate the effort you put forth, by the way,” Luke said, grinning. “A few officers told me you led teams to Afghanistan several times. Thanks for searching for me. I gotta ask you though, was it for the right reasons? Were you there to save an old friend, or to be sure that good pal never resurfaced and messed up the storybook life you’ve started building with my wife?”

“I haven’t been able to get the pages turning yet, in case you haven’t noticed. I’ve been overseas looking for your ass!” Luke shrugged. “I was trying to keep you busy. Figured if you weren’t looking for me, you’d be in bed with her.” “That’s probably about right,” Brock said, studying him. Luke was still full of life. He looked about the same, maybe twenty or thirty pounds thinner, which was surprising considering how long he’d been missing in action, presumed dead. He was tan, and his forehead was wrinkled by sun and stress, something Brock understood well. “Wanna hear my story?” “Maybe some other time,” Brock grumbled, checking his cell phone. “Have any idea where they went?” Brock shook his head. “I wish I did.” “How come you couldn’t have married her sister?” Luke asked. “Tom Tolsen said you and Anna were pretty tight.” “When did you talk to Tom?” he asked, realizing it must’ve been recent since Luke made it to Gatlinburg in time to stop their wedding. “I returned to the States last week,” Luke replied. “Took me a few days of debriefings before I returned to Beaufort. I saw Mary, watched over her for you while you were out looking for me.” “Did it ever occur to you that I could’ve died out there searching for your sorry ass?” “No,” Luke replied. “That thought never crossed my mind. Would you like to know why?” Brock knew the answer, but he played Luke’s game. “Go ahead. Tell me.” “You love Mary like I love her. She was the only thing that kept me alive, and truth told, if you’d found yourself in a similar situation, her love for you would’ve kept you going, too.” “She does love me, Luke,” Brock said, never doubting it for a minute. “I know she does. And she should. Tom says she was a mess until you came into her life. I want to thank you for that.” “You would’ve done the same for me.” Luke clucked. “Actually, I wouldn’t have since I already had a wife after you and I met. But I would’ve been there for her, yeah.”

“You changed your mind about letting us go on with our lives, didn’t you?” Brock asked. Luke took a deep breath. “That’s hard to say. I heard those vows the two of you exchanged. Beautiful words, by the way, but I gotta admit, I’ll have a hard time standing by and letting you bed my wife.” “Bed your wife?” “Yeah,” Luke said, a funny little grin claiming his lips. “It’s one thing to know your best buddy plans on marrying the woman you love, and quite another to know they’ve consummated the love they share.” Brock shook his head. “You’re full of denial, aren’t ’cha?” Luke winked. “Let’s keep it that way for now. Okay?” Brock chuckled. Luke always made him laugh. There was a child living in that man’s body, a little boy that would forever emerge whenever there was a situation to lighten or a sour mood to brighten. “I love her.” “You said that, and it’s obvious. Although, I’m not sure she’ll forgive either one of us now. You left her at the altar, and I died on her. Mary always had a great fear of being left behind. You and I gave leaving a new meaning. We did it in the worst ways imaginable.” “I wouldn’t have left her if you hadn’t decided to show your sorry face today. You know that.” A beat later, Brock added, “You knew it when you had that damn letter delivered.” “Actually, Brock, whether you believe it or not, I wanted you to decide how to handle this delicate situation. You have a way with Mary, and her vows said it best. Your love completes her. She relies upon you.” “And you think she’ll walk away from that so she can reunite with you?” “No,” Luke replied. “I think she’s gonna walk away from both of us now. Mark my word, unless we come up with a way to stop her, this time Mary will leave us behind.”

Chapter Twelve

“Don’t you dare tell either one of them where I am,” Mary fumed, tossing the satin bridal purse on the table. “Don’t worry,” Anna grumbled. “I’m not overly anxious to spend time with either of them. I loved my brother-in-law, and I’m happy he’s alive, but what he’s done to you today is inexcusable.” Mary sniffed. “He’s alive.” “Yes, honey,” Anna said. “He’s definitely among the living and still using the same childish tactics he used on you before he died, I might add.” “And he seemed okay, right?” Mary asked, thinking Luke looked just as handsome as she remembered. He had big dimples, blond hair highlighted by the sun, and bow-shaped lips she still recalled kissing. “Oh God, Anna, what am I supposed to do now?” Anna shook her head and motioned for a bartender. “You can get drunk and worry about it tomorrow. What bride doesn’t get a little tipsy after leaving the chapel without her new husband? Who could blame either of us if we sat here all night running up a tab I plan to have your husband pick up.” “Which one?” Mary asked, immediately sobbing. “Oh God, Anna. In my heart, I’m already married to Brock, but the law would probably say I’m married to Luke!” “Oh, honey,” Anna said softly, reaching for her hand. “This too shall pass.” Mary glared at Anna through tear-filled eyes. “When? When does it pass? It goes from bad to worse!” She blew her nose on a bar napkin. “Brock knew he was alive and didn’t tell me!” “Honey, no. Didn’t you hear them? Brock only discovered Luke was alive right before you did. He sent him a letter.”

Swiping away the fallen tears, Mary said, “Wouldn’t you like to read that letter?” “Not really,” Anna said. “What I want to do is strangle both of them.” The waiter approached. He studied Mary from behind, and pity washed over his face as if he easily translated why a bride in her wedding gown was seated at his table. “What can I get for you two pretty ladies?” “Whiskey,” Mary replied immediately. “Straight up.” A nose blow later, she quickly added, “And keep them coming.” **** Brock stared at his cell phone again several hours later. He paced the length of the cabin he’d meant to share with Mary. Luke looked around the room once more, imagining the acts that might have been unfolding there, if only he’d stayed dead. Brock ran his hand through his hair. “I guess we could start walking. We might find them downtown.” “If I had to guess, they’re in a hotel bar somewhere.” “Or maybe a hotel room,” Brock suggested. “Anna might have known better than to take a runaway bride to a public place. Mary hasn’t been much for drinking in public places since you passed away.” Luke felt that sudden chill up and down his spine. It was so odd to think of himself as dead, difficult to hear other people talk about “when he died” or how “Mary grieved him”, but worse than anything was the tombstone he’d seen in the cemetery while he was in Beaufort. It was peculiar indeed to walk over the marked place of where one supposedly rested in peace, especially if the one resting was supposed to be one’s self. He then wondered aloud, “She never had a body to bury. If I’d been in her shoes, I wouldn’t have stopped looking. I never would’ve quit searching for her.” Brock rubbed his chin. “Maybe if I’d left her alone, she would’ve tried harder. The fact is the military closed your file. She had no one to rely upon, and after I started seeing Mary, Tom became as tight-lipped with me as he was with her. Fact is, Luke, no one knew what happened to you.” “Wanna know?” “If you want to talk about it.”

Luke took a deep breath and finally said, “Not really. All I want to tell you is this. When you’re a SEAL or special ops of any sort with any branch of the military, your life isn’t your own. Your demise can be at any point, and you can be written off easier than someone can sign your walking papers.” “You think officers made the call to leave you behind?” “Think nothin’. I know.” He frowned. “I watched the choppers land and ran toward them waving my arms. Unfortunately, the officer responsible for taking us out of there had better motives for leaving us.” “What motives could an officer possibly have for leaving a team of SEALS behind?” “Actually, you can probably relate. He was banging Gibson’s wife, the guy who was the first SEAL home.” “You gotta be kidding me,” Brock said, pacing again. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sleeping with your wife, too, but I’m glad you’re here.” “Are you?” Luke asked, dismissing the revelation that never needed confirmation. “Of course,” Brock told him. “I may have wanted your woman, but I didn’t want you dead to get her. I asked you to share her a long time ago, and I still remember that look you got when I mentioned it. You thought about it.” Luke chuckled. “I did… You probably know why, too.” “She’s an insatiable little vixen.” Luke placed his palms over his ears as a small kid might. “I don’t think I can stand to hear this.” A beat later, his smile widened and his hands dropped to his sides. “Unless of course, you insist on telling me.” “If you could only see the way she loves me,” Brock sang. “That’s about what I figured,” Luke said. “You’d let me watch the two of you, wouldn’t you?” Brock studied him thoughtfully before he responded. Finally, he said, “You believe Mary will leave us behind if we force her to choose between us.” “Yep.” “Then we can’t ask her to make a choice.” “I never thought about doing that, anyway,” Luke said, realizing he stood to lose more than he’d ever gain because Brock had been there for her in recent months.

What Mary felt for Brock was as real as what they once shared. He’d seen it in the way she looked at him, in the careful way she touched him and responded to his touch. And she’d spoken to him with sincerity in her voice when she recited her vows from the heart. “You’re afraid she might choose me.” Luke shook his head. “No, I’m afraid she’d choose you and always love me, or choose me and always love you. I don’t want her to live that way. Do you?” **** “One more,” Mary slurred, holding up her forefinger and gripping the table. “Honey, I think you’ve had enough,” Anna told her. “I didn’t even hug him hello,” Mary slurred. “I have a feeling you’ll have the opportunity to see him again,” Anna reassured her. “When?” Mary asked, her head rocking on her shoulders. “When will I see him?” “I don’t know,” Anna said, thinking she really needed to call Brock and check on him as well. Since she and Mary had been sitting in the bar, she’d considered what all of this had cost him. She also thought about the price Brock was willing to pay all for the sake of love. “I love him,” Mary said, her tongue in the corner of her mouth. “I still love him.” “Who, honey?” Mary sat upright. Her chin went to her neck and she sighed. For a minute, her eyes closed and Anna held her breath, thinking Mary might pass out right there at the table. When she opened her eyes again, she said, “I don’t rightly know. I guess I love them both.” “I’m sure that’s true. You and Luke had a special kind of love.” “That we did,” Mary agreed. “And Brock is lovely too.” “Lovely, is he?” Anna asked, grinning when she saw Brock and Luke enter the bar. “I’m sure he’d be interested to know you used a feminine term to describe him.” Mary snorted at that. “There’s nothing feminine about that man!” she exclaimed, stretching her arms wide. “I swear, when I first saw his dick, I thought it was this long.” A beat later, and about the time Luke and Brock reached the table, she continued, “That man can fuck all night. His sex drive is about like Luke’s. The two of them would wear a woman out.” Anna cleared her throat and tilted her head, trying to warn Mary of the men standing right behind her. Luke pressed his finger to his lips, and Brock shot her a weak grin. Anna was a

woman’s gal. She wasn’t about to let her sister embarrass herself. “Honey, they’re right behind you.” “I don’t care,” Mary continued, resting her chin on the back of her hand. “I don’t care what they do anymore. I’m not going to choose between them. If I see them,” she stopped abruptly, took a swig of beer straight from the pitcher, and continued, “I’m gonna tell the both of them. It’s both or neither. That’s the way it’s gonna be. I’m not choosing between husbands. And they’re both my husbands. I swear it. In my heart, I know this.” Anna glanced up and shook her head, willing them to walk away. Instead, she saw the light of recognition burning brightly in two pairs of eyes. These fellows weren’t about to walk away from Mary. Plus, since she’d already confessed her love for both of them while stating that she wouldn’t choose one man over the other, she could only imagine what they were thinking. “Brock, Luke,” she said, addressing them. “Yes,” Mary said, shaking her head. “Who the hell do you think I’m talking about?” “They’re right behind you,” Anna said, firmer this time. Mary snickered, her eyes getting heavier then. “You’d better believe it. I’ll take one from behind and one in the front. Hell, it may not be as easy as I think, but it could be a lot worse.” At that, she fell facedown on the table, and she never even flinched.

Chapter Thirteen

Mary was sandwiched between two large bodies. She awoke with a tremendous headache and had to rehash the last hours she remembered. She rolled over to the left, locking her arm around a hard body that only seemed vaguely familiar. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at Luke’s tan back. Behind her, Brock nuzzled her hair, whispering in her ear, “I love you.” As she spooned Luke, Brock wrapped around her. How had she ended up in bed with them? Had something happened that she couldn’t remember? “Good morning, baby,” Luke said, rolling over to face her. She swallowed hard as she searched his giving eyes, the eyes of a man she’d missed, of the husband she’d never fully mourned. “Good morning.” He winked. “Rough night?” “I’m beginning to think I’m living someone else’s life. One minute, things are perfect. The next, all hell breaks loose.” “And then it’s all good again,” Luke assured her, lowering his lips to hers. Brock grumbled behind her, suckling her lobe as she lost herself in one of the most memorable kisses she’d ever experienced. Luke dragged his tongue back and forth over the texture of her mouth, acting as if he savored the slow maneuver, the chance to reacquaint himself with the wife he’d deserted, the woman he left behind. “How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?” Brock asked. She studied Luke when their kiss broke. He smiled as if he knew some big secret. That was unusual enough in itself. Luke had never been able to keep a secret for very long. “Did I

miss something here?” she asked, wiggling away from both men and leaving them within an inch of one another. Luke halfway closed his eyes, extended his arms, and puckered up. “Come here, Brock. Let me kiss away your troubles.” Brock, who apparently had more patience for Luke’s theatrics than Mary did, chuckled. “You never change, do you?” “I have a good time in life,” he reported, his expression turning solemn all at once. “Most of the time, anyway.” “What happened last night?” Mary asked, thinking surely something must have transpired. She drew the sheet close to her chest as she considered all possibilities. “Why am I naked?” “That was your husband’s idea,” Brock said bitterly. “If I’d had my way about it, I’d have left you in our wedding dress.” “It was pretty,” Luke said, rubbing his chin. “But I prefer skin on skin.” “Did we…” She cleared her throat when she sounded like a raspy toad. “Did we fuck?” “Me and you?” Luke asked. “No.” He shot Brock a quick glance. “Come here, tiger.” Brock shook off his hand. “You’re gonna have to knock that off if you expect her to take us seriously.” Luke shrugged. “It’s better to make light of a situation, especially considering this one.” Mary looked around the cabin. She noticed the rugged furnishings, the heart-shaped tub in the floor, and the champagne glasses set up next to the fireplace, located inches away from a patchwork quilt. It was the dead of summer, but if she spared a guess, Brock planned to use the fireplace for a magical moment, the first lovemaking of the night. He was such a romantic. He’d gone to a lot of trouble only to have their plans ruined. She glanced at the bedside tables then. Both of them were loaded down with recognizable toys. Luke’s eyes followed hers. “I see you and Brock enjoy a lot of the same things you and I used to love.” “I’m not discussing my sex life with Brock…with you.” “I wouldn’t expect you to,” Luke said. “Besides, the three of us have new memories to make.” She studied Brock then. “Is this your idea?”

“We’re in agreement,” he said, reaching for her. “Not so fast,” she said, leaving the bed and taking the sheet with her, which left both men with their rigid cocks exposed. Her mouth watered as she eyed them. “What in the world?” “You’ve seen this a time or two,” Luke said, fingering his long length. Brock splayed his legs, and that heavy look of lust burned in his eyes, the same gaze that always seemed to split and sizzle her nerve endings. “What are you two suggesting here?” “It’s not a suggestion,” Luke promised, rising from the bed. “You’re mine.” “And mine,” Brock reminded her, his legs parting so she had a bird’s eye view of his heavy sack. She swallowed. What she’d give to move past this moment, get the details out of the way so she could enjoy what they were suggesting, take the men she loved to her bed, and do just that…love them. “We don’t have to talk about this, Mary,” Brock said, pumping his cock in his hand. “We can do what comes natural and let things fall where they may.” “You’d both like that, wouldn’t you?” she asked, desperately wanting to fall back in bed with Luke and Brock. Urgent need built inside her. She was staring at the man she’d lost, the husband who’d failed to return to her. “I never thought for a minute that you were dead.” “And that’s why you went to bed with my best friend?” he asked, suggesting he resented the fact. “I won’t listen to your insults,” she said, returning to the mattress and sitting beside Brock, an act in itself that would piss off the other man she loved. “You don’t have to,” Luke said. “I understand. You were told I died, whether you believed it or not. You were expected to move on, Mary. I wasn’t there.” “Is that what you call missing in action? Just not being there?” she asked, anger in her tone. Brock scooted behind her. His lips went to her nape, and her nipples spiked under the sheet. “If I could’ve been there, I would’ve been, and you know this.” “Hmm,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “And now what? You expect me to love two soldiers now, so if death knocks on my door again, I’ll have someone to fall back on?” “It’s not such a bad idea,” Luke replied.

“And what if the two of you are on the same tour, hmm?” “That doesn’t happen much,” Brock whispered, traveling down her shoulders. His hands fell to her waist, and he hoisted her high above him. When he released her, Mary’s naked body towered over Brock’s rigid form, and her pussy lingered above his cock. “Fuck him,” Luke said, staring at her pussy as soon as the sheet fell to the wayside. “I won’t do this,” she said, already wet and completely aware of the fact that fucking Brock was precisely what she needed to do. “You’ll screw him, and I won’t ask you again,” Luke said, the humor no longer evident in his voice, the amusement no longer existing in his expression. That rough edge in Luke’s tone was what she’d missed, the easy way he went from comedian to Dom was what lit a roaring fire in the pit of her gut. He could swing one way and then another, and whatever mood he possessed, he fully expected her to match. “I don’t know how to love you anymore,” she confessed, looking away from Luke when his eyes showcased more sorrow than she’d ever seen in any man’s eyes. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “I don’t know how to love either of you now.” “Then we’ll show you,” Brock assured her, using her torso to position her, then lowering her body over his. The impalement was swift, so quick in fact that she never expected him to enter her. The swollen head of his cock didn’t nudge her opening, the thick crest led to a full-fledged invasion. With her knees bent, her feet flat against the mattress, she could only imagine the kind of show she and Brock provided. Luke acted as if he were quite prepared to be well entertained. **** Luke gasped as soon as Brock entered her. “That’s beautiful,” he whispered, staring at their connection, watching as Mary’s pretty pussy lips flared in acceptance. Brock sat in a jackknifed position with one palm supporting him. His free arm looped around her middle as his thumb raked over Mary’s nipple. Luke sat in a nearby chair, watching them fuck, seeing them love one another in his presence. And he couldn’t imagine anything more sensual than watching the woman he cared for, truly loved, love another man she adored. “That’s it, sugar,” Brock breathed, cupping her breast. “Work that sweet body for me, sub.”

Mary’s blonde hair swept over her shoulder, and she latched onto her bottom lip as she stared at Luke with lust-filled eyes. He went to her then and pinched the other nipple, his mouth opening when her lips parted. Moistening his lips, he suckled her breast, watching as Brock continued to manipulate the other hard point. She was recently waxed, and he noticed. Brock had casually mentioned he’d given her a weekend getaway to a day spa in the country prior to her arrival in the mountains. The trip rewarded them all. He’d never seen her so bare and exposed. Kissing her chest, Luke dragged his tongue over the peak he’d licked, nudging Brock’s hand out of the way so he could kiss the other point. Then, he rose to his knees and attacked her lips, framing her face as he drove into her mouth, famished. Their kiss heated his lips, burned his soul. As he held her head in his hands, she did the same, using him for leverage as Brock worked his cock in and out of her sweet body, the body he’d longed to possess again, swearing if he could make love to her one more time, he’d never wish for anything more. Her mouth watered as he kissed her. Tears drifted down her cheeks. “You’ve missed me,” he crooned, breaking their connection. “You may be crazy about that lug inside you, but you’ve missed me.” Brock grunted, and Luke looked over Mary’s shoulder. “Pardon me for asking, buddy. But don’t you think it’s only fair to share?” Brock grinned. “Do you think you’re the only man who’s ever wanted to fuck my woman?” “I guess I deserve that, huh?” Luke asked, dragging Mary away from Brock’s arms. “Will you play nice?” Mary asked. “Never, sub,” Luke replied, eyeing the table filled with goodies. “And I don’t know why, after all this time, you’d expect me to.”

Chapter Fourteen

There was a part of Brock that had needed to finish what they’d started and another part of him that longed to harness his lack of control. He and Luke had only briefly discussed expectations, and fortunately, Mary hadn’t tried to overanalyze their time together. In many ways, Luke’s addition to their bed would be challenging, but on the other hand, he would also bring something to the picture Brock hadn’t expected. He certainly didn’t have a problem with waiting. As a practiced Dom who’d lived in the lifestyle for a number of years, Brock had realized something early in his relationship with Mary. They were so compatible that he had zilch control around her. When they were in bed together, Brock had tried to postpone fucking her, often teasing her beyond normal limitations, and still had found he’d been unable to practice what he’d preached. He’d often left her tied to the bed with a dildo in her pussy so he could walk away and test her without testing himself. Luke reached for the silk scarves. “On your knees, sub.” “Yes, sir,” she said, obedient, eager, and far too compliant, something Brock assumed she’d always been with Luke. She’d been relatively easy for Brock to train, then again, the program he had in place had never been too strenuous. Luke waggled his brows behind her, and Brock shook his head. Without a doubt, Brock would have to take Mary to bed a lot without Luke. He was too fun-loving, and while there wasn’t anything wrong with having a great time in bed, Brock liked slow moving sex acts and enjoyed making love to the woman he adored. Luke probably didn’t believe in taking his time, and Brock couldn’t picture him using a slow hand whatsoever.

Once Mary rose to her knees, Luke barked another order, “Arms forward.” Immediately, Mary extended her thin limbs with her fists balled and pressed together. Luke tied her hands using two strips of material, binding them together before tying the sash to one of the bedposts. The new position he forced Mary to take made Brock as hard as steel. With a natural curve to her waist, Mary leaned off to the left. “Are you uncomfortable, sub?” Luke asked. “Yes, sir.” “Good,” he said, making Brock jerk to attention. Luke picked up a paddle and took to task a planned spanking. He set aside the wooden accessory and grabbed a jar of salve, unscrewing the brass lid and taking a sudden deep breath. “I have dreamed about this.” “I’m sure you have,” Mary said, twisting her hips. Brock watched quietly as two old lovers, husband and wife, reconnected, and while he felt his heartstrings tug a little tighter, he wasn’t sure he’d define the distorted emotions as envy. Mary locked eyes with him then, and as if she’d read his mind, she mouthed the words, “I love you.” “Quiet, sub,” Luke said, staring at her mouth after she’d extended the sentiment. “Brock, do you have that treat in the freezer?” Luke asked, bringing Brock out of his lightheaded state. He walked the short distance to the kitchenette and had just started to remove the bowl of prepared ginger fingers when a loud swat resounded in the room. “More, sir!” Mary screamed, acting as if she were already trained for such a spanking. Brock wheeled around in time to see Luke’s arm wielded behind him. The swift way he brought his swing through made Brock’s heartbeat quit, but right before Luke spanked her again, he slowed the pivot and stopped what might have been a major blow to Mary’s pretty red cheeks. “Mary? What do you say?” “Thank you, sir!” she exclaimed, exasperation thick in her voice. Brock approached the bed and placed the ginger next to Luke’s knee. He already had several toys scattered across the coverlet—nipple clamps, a ball gag, two different paddles, a vibrator, and a blindfold. “Have you been a bad girl, Mary?” “Yes, sir,” she replied, her eyes watering as she watched Brock.

“Tell me,” Luke said, rubbing his cock over her hip. Brock knew his limitations. If he’d been married to Mary and missing from her life for as long as Luke had, that act alone would’ve been his undoing. Instead, Luke continued to press the head of his cock against her smooth flesh, running his hands down her globes, and occasionally spreading her so he could view the tiny tight entrance. “Tell him how naughty you’ve been, sub,” Brock encouraged her, twisting her nipple as he spoke. She yelped, and he winked. “Hand me those clamps, Luke.” The claw-like contraptions were tossed over her shoulder. Suckling one nipple, he lapped at the hard point until her nipple extended enough to securely tighten the attachment. Then, he pressed the rope-style chain against her flesh, leaving the slack between her swollen mounds. He squeezed the other nipple, watching her eyes until the heavy signs of arousal weighted her lids. Clamping the erect point, he dipped his tongue between her breasts and licked at her fullness, pulling the gold chain until she moaned. “Sir, it hurts,” she complained. Luke spanked her then. He gripped the paddle in his hand until his knuckles were white. “No bitching, sub! We’ve discussed this.” Mary cried then. “Yes, but it’s been a long time!” Brock toyed with the other paddle, debating on whether or not he wanted to spank her as well. Instead, he put together the erotic headgear, stretching the leather apart as he secured the ball he planned to stuff in their sub’s mouth. Brock had never been one for gagging his lovers. Still, in this case, he might agree with what Luke had earlier explained. They didn’t need to hear Mary talk about the past, the history she shared with either one of them. They were using this time to start over, to begin a new future together. And the only way to do that appropriately would be to ensure Mary was quiet until the time was right. “Do it,” Luke said, waving his hand in front of the contraption. Mary’s eyes widened when he stood next to the bed. “You know everything we do is for you, right Mary?” “Yes, sir,” she said. Luke spanked her again. “Oh God, if you don’t stop!” she screamed.

“That’s right, sub,” Luke said. “Threaten your sir and see what happens.” He nodded. Brock complied, deciding as soon as he fitted the gear over Mary’s head that he really liked the way the ball stretched her lips. There was something sexy and sensual about the way she accepted the ball. His cock throbbed as she mumbled behind the gag, her eyes following his every move. He yanked the nipple chain, and her back bowed. Luke issued one more smack then tossed the paddle aside, reaching for the oily substance he massaged into her chaffed skin. “Now, baby,” Luke crooned, “I have a special treat for you.”

Chapter Fifteen

As soon as Luke mentioned a treat, she knew what he held in store. Sometimes, she’d missed this. Even though Brock was a tremendous lover and a great fuck, she’d yearned for the dark and more sensual side of lovemaking, the kind of fucking that was uninhibited and erotic one minute then sweet and tender the next. She’d missed the raw screwing, the brash voice of a dominant male ready for his lover’s full submission. She’d missed Luke. Brock’s eyes held a lot of questions as he fitted the blindfold over her eyes. If she hadn’t had a gag in her mouth, she would’ve told him that this was typical. This was the way she and Luke loved one another. Luke didn’t mess around. He was a Dom through and through. As Brock disappeared out of sight, she adjusted her sight to the dim shadows. The dark lavender blindfold prohibited her from seeing what was going on, but that’s what she loved most. She was able to get in touch with her other senses. A zinging sound filled the small cabin. Brock hissed, “This is what you’ll enjoy.”

Brock slid under her body and tapped her pussy with the end of the vibrator, rubbing the tip over her clit as he licked her folds. Her taste was remarkable, her arousal hot and rich. Thrusting his tongue inside her, he brought her to the brink as she moaned aloud, grinding against his face and chin, using her knees in an attempt to secure his head between her legs. Then, he slapped her bare pussy with the vibrator and inserted the end deep inside her channel. “There, baby. Enjoy.” And he didn’t have to ask her twice.

Brock stood beside Luke as they watched her stagger back and forth, swaying from one knee to the other as she used what leverage she could gain to stabilize the toy locked inside her pussy. “That’s beautiful,” Luke said, cupping his balls. “Good God, I could come watching her.” “If you don’t mind, aim that way,” Brock teased. “I have more self control than that,” Luke told him. Brock didn’t know how that was possible. He’d been away from Mary for several months, and all he wanted to do was slip inside her folds and stay there. Her hips rocked forward, and her body began to gyrate, shimmying one way and then the next. Brock smacked her ass. “Not yet, sub.” Luke nodded. “How about that? You can step up and make demands.” Beads of sweat poured from Mary’s brow as she fought the need to orgasm, swayed right and left, her body becoming an instrument of pleasure. “Don’t come, sub,” Luke warned her. Another few seconds passed, and her body didn’t undulate. If she’d climaxed, she’d done so silently and without mumbling behind the ball gag. Inserting the tip of an unscented lubricant into her ass, Luke prepared her for another invasion. He ran his fingers down the crack of her ass and smiled when her bottom flared in acceptance. “You know what I like, don’t you sub?” Silence. The room was too quiet. Luke walked to the head of the bed and removed the gag. “What do you like, sub?” “I need a drink of water.” “Soon,” he promised, lowering his mouth to hers. Brock strolled across the room. He retrieved a bottle of water and took it to her, helping her take a sip as he removed the blindfold. “You’re too easy, man,” Luke complained. “She’s easy to please,” Brock said, eyeing his beautiful woman. When he saw the large ginger fingers Luke held up for his viewing, Brock knew then, there was one kiss he didn’t want to miss. He cupped Mary’s nape and thrust his tongue inside her mouth, drawing her complete attention and focus to him. That is, until Luke impaled her with the ginger root and her mouth fell open. A most incredible sigh filled the room as she took what he imagined was the orgasm she’d barely kept at

bay, riding out the first climax of the morning and begging, like a sub often will, to touch and feel the men responsible for bringing about her exquisite pleasure. **** “Oh my God, push the root higher please, sir!” she screamed. She bit down on her bottom lip, and Brock wanted a taste of that kiss. She could see it in his eyes as her mouth enveloped his wet lips. He untied her hands, which she quickly clasped and drew to her lips. Rewarding her Doms for making her need as she’d never desired before was her only goal, her main ambition. This was heaven, the experience more intense than any other. Her bottom burned for penetration as the ginger root was shoved deeper between her globes. Luke’s delicate fingers strummed across her opening. Seconds later, Brock released her nipples, doing away with the clamps. Luke removed the vibrator. Now, she wanted to fuck. The burn in her ass was too much. The sensations way too hot. Oh God, she’d forgotten how well Luke manipulated her body. “I need you,” she whispered across Brock’s lips. “Show him, sub,” Luke said in the distance, giving her a final jolt when he shoved the root inside her ass then withdrew the stout fingers, tossing the cold ginger aside. Mary whipped her tongue around Brock’s size, teasing and taunting him. His dark eyes held hers, and he groaned, “Suck me, sub. Make me hard, wet.” She dragged her tongue across the slit, looping her tongue up and over the crest, and drew him to the back of her throat where she used her reflexes, swallowing against his size to massage and entice him. “Ah yeah, there, sub. Right there.” Then, she took him to hand and pumped, tantalizing him with the tip of her tongue as she laved the end of his swollen dick. “Come for me,” she crooned. And of course, she knew better than to make a suggestion around Luke. Without warning, Luke grabbed her by the hair of her head, something she’d always loved. Her nipples spiked, and he held her against him. “If anyone comes, we all come together, sub. Understand?” “Yes, sir,” she hummed, realizing she’d won and feeling mighty good about her small victory.

Then, without warning, Luke hauled her body over his, leaving her ass exposed to Brock who certainly knew what to do with a woman’s bottom. Luke brushed her hair away from her face then kissed her, stroking her tongue with his. As they reconnected, Mary remembered. She recalled a love that had been built to last, a man who’d sworn to protect her, a husband who’d promised he’d stay but then he’d gone away, and all that pain and sorrow she’d endured suddenly vanished. Through the heartache and tragedy, Luke had given her something worth fighting for, something worth cherishing. She was loved by two men now, instead of one. Two soldiers showered her with affections, making certain she felt the love they possessed, the compassion they offered only her. Brock placed his hands on either side of her hips. He’d rolled a condom over his cock and doused himself in lube. Luke wore a condom, too, though she wasn’t sure why. He’d never worn one with her before. As he drew her to him, he covered her breasts with adoring kisses, flattening his tongue against a peaked nipple. Her body surrendered to his then, and he thrust inside her as soon as she relaxed in his arms, aware of the other body moving over her, grabbing her by the hips and possessing her. “Ah, sugar,” Brock said, slapping her ass as he entered her. “You’re so tense, sub, so fucking tight.” Luke thrust inside her as well, finding a slow and easy pace. He looked deeply into her eyes and kissed her, his forefinger moving inside her mouth right along with his tongue. Dipping a moistened digit between her legs, he toyed with her as he fucked her, rolling the hard bud until she was at the point of no return. Playing with her clit, he pushed his cock deeper, taking a slow grind, a sweet man’s time. “That’s it, baby. Indulge me. Fuck me. Love me.” “Good God! I can’t wait!” Brock screamed, impaling her with quicker thrusts, moving in and out of her until he rocked inside her with a broken pace. “Come, sub. Come for your husbands,” Luke whispered across her lips. “Come for me, Mary. ‘Cause I swear to God, I’ll always come for you.”

Chapter Sixteen

Later that day, a chirpy little bark awoke her from a deep sleep. “What is it?” she asked, stumbling to the door and opening up the screen to find a precious little mutt looking up at her. “Come back to bed,” Luke called after her. “Hang on,” she said, reaching down to pick up the toy-sized dog. “Well, how do you do?” The puppy licked her face, and she laughed aloud. “I’m fine, too,” she said, giving the dog a good rub between the ears. “Look what I found.” She walked over to the bed and crawled between the two large bodies occupying the space there. Luke rolled over and acknowledged the dog with a gentle pat to the pup’s head. Brock took the pet from her arms, stroking the soft white coat. “You are a pretty thing, aren’t ’cha?” “She is,” Luke said. “Tell me you let her know that a lot while I was gone.” Mary slapped his bare bottom as he tossed the pillow away from his neck and rolled to his side, giving the puppy his undivided attention. “He meant the dog,” Mary told him. “We’re not keeping a mutt,” Luke informed her, his nose twitching in an attempt to ward off a grin. “Why not?” “I’m still on a search for Pigeon,” he teased. “Uh-huh, and I think that’s an excuse,” Mary said. “You never planned on bringing home a dog. Did you?” “Sure he did,” Brock said. “He’s searched all over the world for Pigeon.”

“See there,” Luke told her. “When I was around, Mary, my sole purpose in life was to make you happy.” “I’m keeping this dog,” she said firmly. “And since your objective in life is to see me happy, I’m sure you won’t mind.” Luke sighed. “Mary, we can’t keep him, honey.” “Why not?” she asked. “For starters, I only want one pet,” Luke replied. “And if I happen to locate a dog that looks like Pigeon, then I’m fucked.” She studied him then with a blank expression. “What?” Luke asked, his gaze working from Brock to Mary. Brock apparently understood what kind of corner he’d backed himself into. “You’re fucked?” she asked. “What about me?” “What about you?” Luke said, pinching her hip. About that time, things must’ve hit him squarely in the face, too. He arched a brow. “Well?” “I never wanted two men either, Luke. As much as you may think that the two of you will offer me a glamorous life, I can assure you, loving a couple of guys won’t be easy.” “Speaking of a wonderful life,” Brock said, rising from the bed. He trod across the room and retrieved his navy blue best, the jacket he wore to the wedding that never materialized. “I have something for you.” She handed off the dog and faced Brock, her feet flat on the floor, her hands in her lap. “Mary Worthington, will you still be my wife as much as his?” Brock went down on one knee, using his thumb to flip open the velvet box housing one hell of a diamond ring. Mary stared at the large stone winking back at her and placed her hand over her mouth. “Wow, that’s some kind of diamond.” “Yes,” Brock agreed. “Then again, you’re some kind of woman.” Mary shot Luke a quick glance, and he shrugged. “Don’t look at me. It’s up to you.” “I know it’s up to me,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “And I say yes to both of you!” Her arms flew around Brock’s neck, and she kissed him hard upon the lips. “I didn’t propose again,” Luke pointed out. “But I would. I’d marry you all over again just so the world would know you still belong to me.”

“You don’t have to,” Mary told him, placing her palm to his cheek. A beat later, she added, “I never thought you were dead, Luke. Not for a minute.” “So you’ve said,” Luke muttered, arching a brow. “Which leads me to believe something is very wrong here.” “Take that up with your superior officers,” she said, laughing. “Thanks to them, I now get to keep the stray mutt that finally found his way home.” “Uh-huh, and what does that make me?” Brock asked. Luke snickered. “After the way she loved us both earlier, I’d say you should feel a whole lot like the pigeon.” “Why’s that?” Brock asked, frowning. “Oh stop, Luke,” she said, grabbing the ball of white fluff and bringing the small dog against her chest. “A pigeon is someone easily duped or cheated,” Luke told Brock. “And you think I’m a pigeon.” “Yep, absolutely,” Luke replied. “If you hadn’t walked away from Mary at the altar, I would’ve left and the two of you would’ve lived a happy life. Instead, I placed the ball in your court, and I realized what you’d do. “I knew you would do the right thing because that’s who you are, Brock Taylor. You’re a good man, a man I’d be proud to see marry my wife.” “But…” “But I’m still married to her, too. I expect her to wear both our rings from here forward, until death do us part.” Brock scratched the back of his neck. After thoughtful consideration, he said, “I don’t have a problem with that.” “Good!” Luke exclaimed. “Now if you don’t mind, put the dog back outside where you found him, Mary. He probably belongs to another family or couple vacationing here in the mountains. He has a home. Let him return to those who love him, those who miss him. Besides, like I said, I’m still trying to find a mutt to replace your Pigeon.” Mary caressed his cheek. “That’s just not possible, Luke. Some things, especially those worth keeping, are irreplaceable.”

“I’m glad you think so. Now that I’ve found my way home again, I’m never leaving you. I won’t wander off again.” “Promise?” Mary asked, her gaze shifting between both men. Brock looked away while Luke gave her his word. “On my life, Mary.” “Brock?” He took a deep breath and said, “Mary, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you always feel loved, protected, and secure.” “Then what more can a woman ask for?” Luke pulled her against him, his arms surrounding her in a tight embrace. “How about another man who’ll promise you the same?” “Then I must be the luckiest woman in the world.” “After everything I put you through, you deserve to be happy.” “I am,” Mary assured him, reaching between his legs. “But trust me. I can always be happier.”

About the Author

An international bestselling e-book and trade paperback author, Destiny Blaine writes in all genres under several pseudonyms. Destiny lives in East Tennessee with her husband and daughter. Her son is serving in the United States Navy. For more information, please visit her website at www.destinyblaine.com.

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