Page 21 of D-Day

With that he turned away from her, and before slipping out into the hall, he checked to see if the coast was clear. He threw one more glance over his shoulder. Work the problem. Could he? She blew him a kiss and he stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him, wondering if he’d ever be with her like that again or were they both heading for some major heartache.

7

Helen watched him leave,regret and deep disappointment turning into annoyance. Damn it, just this once, when they needed it so badly, couldn’t everyone just leave them alone? Resting her head against her upraised knees, she closed her eyes, her body still tingling from what they had done together. If only they could have had a few hours to themselves. Even one night. Especially tonight when he was ready to open up, to listen, to maybe see some kind of future with her. What that would entail, she wasn’t sure.

But the promise of it made her almost giddy. Ever since she’d met him, she’d been restless, and wondering what other path her life could take. She had to be honest with herself. Sure, she was still young, but this travel, danger, and exhausting life was getting to her. She was having frequent nightmares, and the deaths of her colleagues just over six months ago had devastated her. It’s why she left Doctors Without Borders. She couldn’t handle the memories.

She thought about his anger, how gaunt, stressed, and tormented he’d looked, and she didn’t want that for him. There had been so much more she wanted to talk to him about. Shegritted her teeth in frustration, wishing she’d had a chance to hear everything he had to say. Drinking, fighting. It hurt her physically that he was experiencing so much while trying to do such a hard and dangerous job. That’s where his focus should be.

She wasn’t naive or unaware of the sacrifices Maritza made for Buck. Whenever she was in San Diego, she loved visiting her sister-in-law’s coffee shop, The Golden Grain in San Diego’s Gaslamp Quarter.She’d wanted to confide in Mari, but she didn’t keep a thing from Buck. They had some long discussions about how she feared for Buck’s life but trusted him to carry out his missions and come back to her. Her love for him was without measure and being with him was her only choice.

Helen thought the very same thing. There was no doubt in her mind how she felt about D-Day. But she’d been hesitant to drop the L word for fear that it would be more than he could handle. It was almost more than she could handle, admitting to herself that there was such a deep bond between them. Stronger than any man she’d ever known. Besides, this really wasn’t the time or place where they should be having these types of conversations.

He’d only been gone for about fifteen minutes, but she craved him like air. She pushed the bedsheet away, rising and heading for the bathroom. She’d take a cool shower, then try to get a few hours of sleep. Tomorrow wasn’t going to wait for her.

While running the water, her thoughts went back to how he had pushed his way into her room, the force of his presence, the scent of him, the feel of those heavy, ropey muscles all over him from his arms to his chest, and that amazing stomach and those thick thighs. Damn, she knew anatomy, but he was the epitome of one fine specimen. Thank you, US Navy, and special forces. She bit her lip, then smiled. He would probably laugh at her right now. He had no idea how gorgeous he was, or how desirable.

The sensation from just minutes ago came funneling back with a velocity that made her legs want to buckle. Tipping her head back, she closed her eyes, the heavy, fluttery sensation in her chest compressing her lungs, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Memories and sensations overwhelmed her senses and clogged her mind, and she remembered the out-of-control need that had consumed them, recalled the feel of his mouth hot and hungry against hers, the feel of him moving hard and fast inside her. And she remembered the thick, pulsating spasms that had racked her whole body, the crushing, convulsive strength of his arms when he climaxed, expressing a hot, liquid release deep inside her. And she remembered that last soul-shattering kiss he’d given her before he left.

Her whole body responding to the sensory memories, Helen turned and weakly rested her forehead against the tile, the water cascading down her back. She wished he was still here so they could spend time exploring each other and talking about him, finding out what he kept ducking, discovering all those secrets, and playing some part in easing his mind. It was only now that she sensed there was more in him than the pain of being without her.

Groaning softly, Helen rolled her head against the tile, knowing that she was going to go off the deep end if she didn’t disconnect the erotic sensations that filled her mind. Turning into the full force of the spray, she shut off the hot water, wondering how effective a cold shower really was.

What a heady sensation to be wanted by such a man. She had to wonder if there was more to him keeping himself away from her than that stupid vow. She understood crossing lines, but when two people had such an obvious attraction to each other, they should be able to act on it without so much drama. She had refrained from talking to her brother about the situation. SEALs weren’t big about being handled. Not that she wanted to handleanyone. She just wanted a fighting chance with the man she had chosen. And she had chosen Drew in every way. He was so real, sweet, hard-working, and loved her family as much as she loved them. He absorbed the praise from her father, loved the teasing from her brothers, and spent time with Daisy—homework, chores, cooking—nothing was too mundane or boring to him. Daisy felt like he was as much a brother as any of her male siblings.

Her parents loved him just like a son. They had been concerned when he’d turned down their invitation during one of the team’s downtimes. Buck and Maritza had come back to Wyoming, but the absence of D-Day was keenly felt. Even the horse he rode was showing signs of missing him. Cash, a big palomino, was off his feed, lethargic, and ornery.

She finished drying off and headed back into her room. Getting a fresh nightgown out of her dresser, she pulled it over her head and sighed. Whatever happened here, she was adamant about having some uninterrupted time with D-Day once this mission was over.

She slipped into bed, the sheets smelling like him, and she breathed deep. Her body still hummed from overstimulation and an unsatisfied ache that was going to be nearly impossible to ignore. She wanted nothing more than to have D-Day’s arms around her and stay there for the rest of the night.

It had been like a beginning. For the first time—for the very first time—every single emotional barrier had been down, and God, she wanted all that passion and wildness, that feeling of his trust in opening up to her about everything that was holding him back. She wanted him, all of it, whatever came with that shaggy blond hair and hard-muscled package, knowing him as well as she knew herself. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, but she held onto that moment. It could very well bethe beginning of a whole new life for her…and the man she was unable to forget or let go.

When it cameto his brothers, it took a lot to knock Zorro down, so one punch in the jaw from D-Day only made him more determined to find out what was going on with him. But he thought he had an inkling of his teammate’s problem.

Helen Buckard.

If D-Day hadn’t fucked her, he wanted to.

And wasn’t that a fine kettle of fish?

Aww, that hard sister line that most SEALs wouldn’t cross, but sometimes, it was beyond a man’s control when faced with a woman like Buck’s beautiful sister. Had D-Day stepped over that line?

¡Ay, caramba!

He’d been a psych major in college, having minored in meditation and conflict resolution—something that always made him grin. Now, his idea of conflict resolution involved the business end of an M4 or the seven-inch, military-issue combat knife.

He’d chucked all that for medicine and a warrior’s life, and never looked back, not even when he violated one of medicine’s most honored oaths to do no harm. He considered that a flexible line when it came to defending America from her enemies. He was a SEAL first, and a medic second. Taking lives was what the job was about.

He wasn’t sure what happened between D-Day and Helen in Wyoming, but Zorro’s mind could easily see why she looked at D-Day with that pent-up longing look. They were all ripped gratis of the US Navy and their special ops lifestyle, not tomention the confident attitudes, the can-do abilities, and the aura of danger and toughness that they radiated simply by breathing. None of them could help it. It was just who they were. Not that any of that had helped him recently. He seemed to be on a streak of bad luck love, or maybe because he’d left his heart in West Africa with prickly, hostile Dr. Everly Quinn. He sighed. That ship had sailed. What were the odds he’d ever encounter her again? Slim to none.

Changing gears, he was floored at how Buck could have missed it—or maybe he hadn’t. D-Day’s fighting, drinking, and his tortured, unkempt look now all made sense. It probably wasn’t all about sex…something he was trying not to think about because he wasn’t getting any.

Buck was a singular individual, laid back, fair, and unwilling to get into people’s business. He minded his own unless he was unleashed on a mission, then that cowboy turned into the warrior he was. Could it be that he wasn’t concerned about Helen and D-Day? Letting their interaction run its course? Wily bastard. He loved that cowboy like they were flesh and blood, and that laconic way of his was effective, as was his intense leadership style. He’d taken over in the jungle of Nicaragua, and he’d saved them and their LT. There wasn’t one of these guys he wouldn’t run into hell with and kick the devil’s ass.

D-Day was acting as erratic as hell, and taking off was so uncharacteristic of him that Zorro had a sneaking suspicion about where he went. And a distracted commando was a dead one. So, watching his back became an even more important mission.

Buck had just gotten word that D-Day was headed to a bar—Bang Bang Brew. He had to wonder if it was a bar or a cat house or both. Probably.

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