by Helen Brenna
“What? Now you can leave me with a clear conscience?”
“I deserved that.” Jonas let loose a sigh.
“I wanted that baby, Jonas. More than anything.”
“I know, but listen. The bullet that hit you, hit an artery in your leg. Sean said you miscarried because of all the blood you’d lost.”
“So if I hadn’t gotten shot…” She closed her eyes and more tears surfaced.
“Missy,” he whispered. As best he could with all the tubes coming out of her, he pulled her into his arms and held her. “It means we can try again.”
She pulled back. “You want to try?”
“Absolutely, I want to stay. With you. On Mirabelle. In D.C. Hell, in Timbuktu. I don’t care. Wherever you are, I want to be.”
She had to ask. “What if I can’t have children?”
“Being a dad is something I’ve never thought much about.” He paused, squeezed her hand. “These days, it’s sounding…and feeling right. Adoption works for me. You’ve already started that process. It should be a piece of cake. But if it’s not, kids or no kids, Miss, the most important thing to me is being with you.”
“Forever?”
“And ever.” He kissed her cheek.
She sniffled. “You’re just saying that because I took a bullet for you.”
“Yeah, you did, didn’t you?” He chuckled. “Flew pretty damned fast, too, into the line of fire.” Then he sobered, swallowed back what looked an awful lot like tears. “Don’t ever do that again.”
They still had issues to work out, but one thing had been settled. Neither of them would be looking for a quick way out when the going got rough. Tears puddled in her eyes. “I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you again, of you dying for real.”
“So you really did cry at my funeral,” he whispered. “Didn’t you?”
“Buckets.”
He drew her hand up and kissed her fingers. “I love you, Miss. Bullet or no bullet. You’re the one true love of my life, remember?” He held out his hand, palm toward her.
She reached up and placed her own palm against his, matching their love lines. “How could I ever forget?”
EPILOGUE
JONAS SAT BACK, SIPPED ON a mug of hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps, and enjoyed the heat of the roaring fire at his back as he listened to the banter going on around him.
“Time’s up.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You making up rules as you go?”
Ron and Jan Setterberg. Herman Stotz and his wife, Crystal. Sarah, Hannah and Sean. All had become fast friends in the last five months. Even Sean.
Garrett and Erica Taylor had invited a small group of islanders to their house for a Christmas dinner for which Erica had pulled out all the stops. Lasagna. Risotto. Two different baked fish dishes, one in a creamy savory sauce, the other tomato based with onions and fresh herbs, along with a capon and a variety of vegetables and salads. Cured meats, cheeses and olives. Pound cake, cookies and homemade candies. And an assortment of breads from sweet to crusty that would make any mouth water.
Jonas was so full he had a feeling he wouldn’t need to put another single thing in his mouth for a week. “Do you eat like this all the time?” he asked Garrett.
“Why do you think I have to work out so much?” Garrett said, chuckling. He leaned toward Jonas and added, “Herman’s talking about retiring. I could use a good deputy.”
“Deputy, my ass.” Jonas snorted. “Better watch out or I’ll take your job.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
They both knew Jonas was quite content working as a consultant to the Bureau and the DEA, flying to D.C. once a month for meetings. Though he’d set up an office in Missy’s—their—house and managed to keep himself plenty busy, life on Mirabelle was proving to be peaceful in a way Jonas had never expected. Hell, he never even carried his gun around any longer. Kensington had told him several times his job would be waiting for him should he change his mind, but there was no chance of that ever happening.
He glanced at Missy and watched her laugh as she bent toward Sarah. Nope. No chance in hell. These days any job change for Jonas would more than likely involve downriggers and a captain’s license. In fact, he had his eye on a nice-sized boat for sale in Bayfield and it wouldn’t take much of his savings to start up a charter operation. FBI agent or captain, it didn’t matter. Not anymore.
Missy put a hand on the slight bulge of baby at her waist and Jonas swallowed as emotion overtook him. Every single ultrasound had shown a healthy baby girl. Missy still worried something might go wrong. Jonas knew, in his gut, their little girl was going to be just fine. Men had intuition, too, he’d had to remind her.
The sound of a baby crying came through the monitor sitting on the kitchen counter.
“Not ours,” Erica said.
“Certainly not mine,” Sarah said, laughing.
Jonas glanced at Missy and smiled. “Ours. I’ll get him.” He went to the guest bedroom near the back of the log home, bent down and picked up his newborn baby boy.
Jessie, the young woman from Duluth, dissatisfied with every other prospective parent had, upon hearing their entire story, insisted on meeting Jonas. One more visit to Mirabelle and she’d asked Missy and Jonas to adopt her child. They’d no sooner signed all the paperwork than they found themselves pregnant to boot.
“Shh, shh.” Jonas patted his son’s back. The baby quickly quieted, but Jonas stayed in the room, enjoying this one-on-one time with his son. He kissed his soft cheek and looked in those big, dark eyes. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.
Missy came into the room and wrapped an arm around Jonas’s waist. “For a man who thought himself incapable of love, you’re sure doing an awfully good job.”
“You think?”
“I know.” She kissed him, nipped at his lower lip.
He dipped his tongue softly inside her mouth and felt the stirrings of arousal. After all these months, he would’ve thought his need for her would’ve been satisfied to some degree. Instead, it’d only grown stronger. He loved looking at her naked. All those amazing curves. That beautiful swell in her tummy. “Let’s go home,” he groaned, cradling the baby in his arms.
“We just started a game. It’s—”
“I have a better game in mind.” He nuzzled her neck, knowing it would send the appropriate shivers down her spine. “In front of our own fire.”
“Are there cards involved?”
“No.”
“Dice?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Mmm,” she moaned and leaned into him. “Now you have me interested.”
Loud laughter suddenly erupted from out in the great room and someone called out, “We can hear you in there!”
“Sex fiends!”
“Get a room!”
Jonas glanced up. “How the—?”
Grinning, Missy snapped off the baby monitor. “Nosy lot, aren’t they?”
Jonas chuckled. “Yeah, but I like ’em.”
She sobered, then ran a hand over his cheek. “Are you happy?”
“Perfectly.” He turned his face and kissed her palm.
“Sure you won’t ever regret leaving the Bureau?”
“Positive.”
“What if I told you I wanted to move closer to my parents, so our kids could be closer to my mom as well as my brothers and sister?”
No mention of her father. In time, maybe that, too, would come. Maybe someday soon he’d even come to terms with his own father. “I’d say your wish is my command.”
“We could use some of my trust fund money to buy a house in D.C.,” she suggested. “Split our time between there and here. What do you think?”
She no longer felt the need to prove anything to anyone by not spending her trust fund money, and he’d given up feeling threatened by her wealth. Their respective bank balances no longer seemed to matter.
“Missy, I don’t care where we go or what you do with yo
ur money as long as I’m a part of the equation.” He put his hand on her stomach and kissed her slowly. “It’s our time.”
“And timing,” she whispered, “is everything.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5687-7
ALONG CAME A HUSBAND
Copyright © 2010 by Helen Brenna.
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*An Island to Remember
*An Island to Remember
*An Island to Remember
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE