Heroes in Uniform: Soldiers, SEALs, Spies, Rangers and Cops: Sexy Hot Contemporary Alpha Heroes From NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Authors

by Sharon Hamilton

  At last, Ben came in, but he stopped just inside the door, with that mixture of excitement and anxiety on his face that always scraped a little at her heart. Once, Ben’s excitement had never left any room for anxiety. He spotted his teacher first.

  “Mrs. Hammerschmidt, is it okay for me to check if – ” Seeing his mother, he broke off to wave.

  “Yes, Ben, I believe someone is waiting for you at the principal’s office next door. Please, accompany your guest in.”

  Ben’s smile exploded in the instant before he dashed out.

  “Class, settle down, please. We want to be polite to the guest Ben is bringing us this afternoon.”

  Ellyn looked at Joyce Hammerschmidt. “Guest?”

  “Yes. And that’s what I think we need to look at in this whole incident. It did drop Ben into a funk for a period, but that didn’t last. He’s shown initiative after adversity, and that is so important at this age.”

  Ellyn was glad to hear that assessment, even if she still had no idea how her son had done that.

  “But who ...?”

  The door opened again, and Ellyn could hear Ben’s excited whisper, saying, “Put your hat on, please. Pleeeeaaase.”

  A figure stepped in, familiar and unknown, at the same time.

  Grif.

  No, not Grif. Not the Grif she knew. But Colonel John Griffin Jr.

  In full uniform. That neutral green the army wore. With his hat on, as requested, and toting a regulation duffel bag – at least she presumed it was regulation. What she knew about the army was basically limited to the fact that Grif had chosen to make it his life ... and his love. This was a part of him she’d never even fully seen before, much less understood.

  He set the duffel down, then was taking off the hat when his eyes met Ellyn’s. She couldn’t interpret any message in his cool gaze – in fact, she was certain he made it unreadable on purpose. Her own expression, she hoped, displayed her gratitude that he’d come through this way for Ben. Her other emotions she’d as soon keep to herself. At least until she sorted them out.

  He tucked the hat under his arm and stood as if a General had popped up in front of him instead of five rows of kid-occupied desks and a handful of adult women.

  “Ben, won’t you introduce your guest?”

  “Yes, ma’am. This is Colonel John Griffin Junior of the United States Army. He used to come to Far Hills all the time as a kid, but he wasn’t born here,” Ben hurriedly assured the teacher. He looked at notecards he held tightly. “He was born at Fort Hood – that’s in Texas. He’s visiting now, while he’s on leave – that’s what they call vacation in the Army – and he’s been my friend my entire life.”

  A flicker crossed Grif’s face that caught Ellyn’s heart by surprise. At that moment she wanted more than anything to hug man and boy. But all she could do was stand at the back of the room and beam, as Ben consulted his notecards in telling the class about some of Grif’s assignments.

  She was soon caught up as much as the children in what Grif began drawing out of the duffel bag. Using Ben as an undersized mannequin, he outfitted the boy for “duty” in camouflage fatigues – shirt only, since the tail reached the top of the boots he had Ben step into. He showed a canteen and various tools, as well as rations, an emergency shelter, a compass, and gave a brief discourse on the importance of socks to a marching soldier.

  “Thank you, Colonel,” the teacher said from her spot at the back of the room beside Ellyn, as Ben and Grif started returning the items to the duffel, “and thank you, Ben. That was a wonderful presentation. Colonel, we would be honored if you would stay as our final two students give their presentations, then join us in the special treat our mothers have brought us.”

  Grif looked directly at her, and Ellyn managed a smile, despite the odd sensation that seemed to take hold of her facial muscles. And her knees.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I’d be happy to.”

  “Wonderful,” Joyce Hammerschmidt said in her classroom voice. Then she dropped it to a whisper only Ellyn could hear: “There is something about a man in uniform.”

  Uncertain what her voice might sound like, Ellyn nodded.

  As Joyce made her way to the front of the room, a small part of Ellyn’s mind recognized she would never again be intimidated by the older woman. The rest of her mind was occupied with thinking:

  At least there was something about this man in uniform. And no doubt something even more about him out of uniform ... or better yet, out of any clothes.

  Oh, my God, I didn’t just have that thought, did I?

  Her mind circled around from shock to something that might have edged toward glee, then caromed away from that with renewed shock. What was wrong with her? To think that way about Grif. And to be honest, not just to think it but to envision it in full, glorious Technicolor ...

  Grif.

  She glanced at the quarter-profile that was all she could see of him seated at the front of the classroom, hoping that would remind her who she was having these unseemly thoughts about.

  It didn’t work, and she spent the remaining presentations carefully not looking anywhere near where Grif sat.

  Still, she did notice, as the teacher released the kids from their seats to thunder toward the baked goods at the back of the room, that the three other mothers went the opposite direction, heading toward one U.S. Army colonel.

  That held him long enough for the first wave of cupcake, cookie and brownie marauders to plunder the table, retreat with their booty and re-form around the star attraction. Soon Grif was surrounded by a ring of chocolate-smeared fascination about waist-high.

  Ellyn’s attention shifted as one member of that ring broke away and headed for her.

  “Wasn’t that great? Wasn’t that great?” Ben demanded. “I had the best one of anybody – even better than Billy, who thought he was so smart getting Daniel before I had a chance to ask him.”

  “It was great. And it was very, very nice of Grif to do this for you. But why didn’t you tell me about this assignment, Ben? I would have helped you.”

  “I know, but you’ve been having that worried look a lot lately and I’ve gotta start taking care of things on my own.”

  “Oh, Ben,” was all she got out around the clog in her throat.

  “Besides,” he added, dropping from sounding approximately two decades older than his chronological age back to eight, “you’d have said I could bring you in, since you were born somewhere else, and that’d be so lame, having my mother.”

  A chuckle eased her throat. “I can see that it wouldn’t have been too exciting. But you have to promise me that in the future you’ll tell me about projects likes this – no matter how worried I might look. I’ll be even more worried if I think you’re not telling me things. Do you understand?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Do you promise to tell me from now on?”

  He met her eyes. “I’ll try, Mom.”

  “You see that you do, young man.”

  He grinned at her, and she grinned back.

  “Gotta go, Mom, or there won’t be any of your cupcakes left, and they’re the best.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she muttered to herself as he took off for another pass at the table.

  From the corner of her eye, she caught the movement of muted green. Turning, she saw the broad-shouldered, straight-backed figure of Colonel John Griffin Junior leaving the room.

  She cast a practiced glance over the room, assured herself that whatever mayhem might break out in the next five minutes, Joyce and the other mothers could handle without her, and hurried after him. She didn’t catch up until he’d almost reached his car.

  “You didn’t get a cupcake, Grif.”

  He stopped and turned, his face unreadable. “No, I didn’t.”

  “That’s okay, I’ve got more at home. I’ll save you one.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She considered the formality in his manner and her own discomfort. Might
as well hit them both head on.

  “You didn’t tell me about this.”

  “No, I didn’t. Ben said he’d get your okay, and he asked me not to talk to you about it.”

  She sighed. “He didn’t say anything. He ...” Somehow, telling Grif that her son was worried about her being worried did not seem a good idea when she’d spent so much time and effort telling him she was doing fine. “He was afraid I’d make him bring me in as his presentation. And that, of course, would have been lame.” That drew a quirk of amusement from Grif’s otherwise stern mouth. “As for Ben asking you not to talk to me, that sounds awfully mild for what I suspect happened. A blood oath, maybe? Swearing on your sacred honor? Agreeing to forfeit your first-born?”

  She’d been prepared to go on, but that last image stopped her.

  “Well,” Grif conceded, “pledged me not to tell you. I’m sorry, maybe I should have anyway. Do you mind?”

  “Mind? That you came like a knight in shining armor for my son? Now, I could understand why you might mind – being coerced into this by my relentless son, as I know perfectly well you were. I know how persistent that child can be.”

  “That can be a good trait.”

  “Not if it drives the people around him crazy or makes them do things they’d rather not.”

  “I was glad to do this for Ben. But he should have told you. I could tell you were surprised and ...” A slight shift of his hand seemed to indicate the uniform.

  “Maybe I was a bit taken aback. When I saw you standing there, it struck me how seldom you wore your uniform around us, back in Washington. Almost as if you weren’t comfortable in uniform. But seeing you now ... You certainly look at home in it.”

  “I am.”

  The words had an odd finality to them.

  “You deliberately didn’t wear your uniform around us?” She’d rarely asked him about the army or his role in it during all those years, and now she couldn’t seem to let the subject drop. Like pushing at a sore tooth with her tongue.

  “It seemed better to wear civvies. Around the kids. Uniform never seemed to fit with a family life.”

  “There have got to be thousands and thousands of military families who don’t agree.” She smiled. He didn’t. “As for making my kids uneasy – especially my son – you can see after today how wrong you were about that.”

  He grinned slightly. “He did seem pleased.”

  “Pleased. There you go with hyperbole again, Colonel. You’ve got to stop overstating situations. He was flying higher than any kite. Although, you could have done one thing to make him happier.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you’d just had a spare canon or bazooka lying around that you could have brought along.”

  They were both laughing then.

  Oh, it was so good to see Grif laugh. If his grin transformed his face, his laugh transformed his soul, lifting the sadness, the weight that seemed to cling to him. She loved to see him laugh.

  Ellyn tipped her head back and laughed, too, and Grif felt an unfamiliar lightness combine with the all-to-familiar tightness in his chest. God, Ellyn’s laugh was something he’d give his life to protect. Light, but real. Inviting, including. Wrapping around his heart the way her arms reached now to wrap around his waist.

  She hugged him as she had a thousand times. He schooled his arms to return the gesture with the reassurance of friendship as he had a thousand times. He could do nothing about the sensation of heat wherever her body pressed against his. Could do nothing about the instinct rushing blood to his groin. She released him and eased back. His arms obeyed his command to loosen their hold on her.

  Then she stopped moving away.

  For one beat of his heart, everything remained as it always had been.

  With the second beat of his heart, the door to changing everything opened. Ellyn stretched up, one hand steadying herself against his upper arm, and her lips touched his cheek. But just barely his cheek, because somehow he’d turned. Or she had. Or they both had. Her lips, which had meant to brush across his cheek, grazed the corner of his mouth.

  Her mouth no longer touched his skin, but she hadn’t pulled away. She was still right there, so close, her breath, coming in short, light puffs, brushed across the faint dampness her lips had left. So close, he smelled the tangy spice of her shampoo, blended with the rumpled, clean sweat of the kids she’d been hugging and shoulder-patting as she’d dispensed cupcakes, juice and love.

  For one beat of his heart, everything remained as it always had been.

  With the second beat of his heart, he turned his head that final degree, and touched his lips to Ellyn’s.

  She didn’t retreat.

  Their lips parted a moment, then came back together. Together. Not a mistake. Not a mis-directed innocent kiss. Not him kissing her. The two of them kissing each other. Her lips warm and soft, moving against his. Giving and taking.

  The reality of that bolted hot and triumphant through him.

  She might have felt it, because her hands tightened their hold on him, her fingers digging in, gaining support. Holding on.

  He shifted toward her and she balanced by moving in, too.

  He touched his tongue to her lips, and they parted, just barely but immediately. Taking a welcome from that slight opening, he slid his tongue inside, feasting on her. She hesitated, just long enough to make him consider dropping to his knees and begging. Then her tongue answered his, and a pulse of distilled heat shot through him.

  He wrapped her tighter, aware of the sweet press of her breasts against his chest, of the fit of her hips against him, of her hands on his back and into his hair. They adjusted to each other, angling to make the kiss deeper, harder, then softening it as they both grabbed air before the kiss consumed them again.

  A kiss that seemed to search, almost frantic. And then they found it. A deep, driving rhythm that echoed the throb of heat in his body. It was blatant, undisguised, raw. A mating of mouths.

  Desire shouting to find someplace, anyplace, to push aside the layers of clothes, to join. A soft, straining sound escaped Ellyn, telling him she felt it, too.

  He lifted his head, discarding his car as too exposed, gauging the distance to her more enclosed Suburban.

  But before he could start she made another sound. Born as a gasp, but dying as a sob.

  And her hands no longer held him, but held him off.

  “Ellyn – ”

  “Please... Please...”

  She didn’t look at him, her eyes locked on his nameplate over his heart. Head back, eyes closed, he swore. Harsh words in barely a whisper. It didn’t help.

  He straightened his back and, against every instinct rioting in his body, he loosened his hold on her. She backed away three unsteady steps, then stopped.

  “I have to go. I have to...”

  “Ellyn – ”

  Her voice had ground to a halt before he spoke, but as soon as he said her name, she was off again.

  “Back to the room. I should –I mean, I left my post – that’s a court-martial offense, isn’t it?” As if afraid he might answer, she rushed on, backing up another step, starting to turn. “Leaving those other mothers with all those kids. Have to guard against sugar highs, you know, or – ”

  “Right now. Ellyn.” His voice had enough of the bark of command that she stopped in mid-flight. Her eyes came to his face for a flash, then away, before he could read their message. “Whatever you’ve got to say, just say it.”

  She paused long enough then to stammer out, “There’s nothing to say. I mean, I didn’t ... I shouldn’t have ... I’m sorry.”

  Still not looking at him, she turned and walked away. Purposeful now, no longer a flight. He didn’t try to stop her again.

  “Yeah,” he said to the school door after it had closed behind her. “I’m sorry, too.”

  * * *

  Ellyn stood in the girls’ bathroom, feeling like Gulliver in the land of Lilliputians. The mirror was too low for her to see her face
without crouching.

  She was glad she couldn’t see her face. Especially as her hand went to her lips, touching their newly tender surface.

  Her fingers trembled and she balled them into a fist.

  What was the matter with her? What had possessed her? Those old feelings for Grif had disappeared long ago, faded like delicate spring flowers giving way to the sturdy blooms of summer. As her girlhood fantasies were replaced by the reality of their friendship.

  That kiss was no daffodil or crocus, clamored a voice in her head. It was roses entwined with jasmine and orchids. Rich and heady and delicate.

  Could he possibly have meant to kiss her that way?

  What? You think roses and orchids get into a crocus bed by chance?

  She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had to think.

  He didn’t exactly push you away.

  Grif wouldn’t. He’d never want to hurt her with that kind of rejection. Even when she’d thrown her eighteen-year-old self at him, he’d been so gentle, taking all the blame.

  Even a non-femme fatale like you can tell the difference between a man who’s not rejecting and a man who’s turned on. He was turned on.

  He was a man. Men didn’t need emotion for that particular reaction.

  Not Grif

  No! He was a man like any other man. No saint, as Dale had told her. Perhaps he was lonely, being here. Away from ... someone.

  He’d so rarely mentioned other women to her. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone. Someone beautiful, dazzling, exciting. Someone who offered much more than cookies and lemonade, someone who didn’t need a new dryer or a path rebuilt, someone whose kids didn’t drag a man into chauffeur duty and show-and-tell – if she even had kids. Someone who knew how to hold onto a man.

  Twice before they had kissed, and each time had taught her an important lesson. That first time had taught her that Grif didn’t share her feelings.

  The second time, that stunning kiss the week before her wedding, had taught her that her feelings were more complicated than she’d thought. But that kiss had also taught her a critical lesson about Grif. With her blood and nerve-endings fizzing like champagne, she’d seen immediate regret and self-recrimination in his eyes. He’d hated himself at the moment. Ellyn would never again be a party to anything that made Grif feel that way about himself.