The Navy SEAL's E-Mail Order Bride (Heroes of Chance Creek)

by Seton, Cora

  “In transit? On your way home?” she said in a rush that warmed him. She sounded excited for him.

  “In a manner of speaking,” he said. “Listen, I’ve sent you something special to make up for that missed call. Your doorbell is going to ring in a minute. Can you buzz your delivery in?”

  There was a long pause. “What kind of delivery?”

  “Something romantic,” he assured her, his finger on the buzzer. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

  “How do you even know where I live?”

  “Honey, your name, address and phone number are online for anyone to see. This is not the moment to worry about security. I swear.”

  “I just moved here a month ago. No one has this new address.”

  “I do.”

  “Right. And for all I know you’re some crazy person delivering a bomb to my apartment.”

  Mason sighed. “Do you know any of your neighbors?”

  “I’ve met Mrs. Morales across the hall,” Regan said after a moment.

  “Knock on her door. Tell her you’re getting a delivery and for safety’s sake you want her to keep her door open. I have no reason to blow up Mrs. Morales.” If he’d come all this way and she didn’t let him in, he’d have to camp out on her doorstep until she came out.

  “Okay,” Regan said. “I can do that. What time is the package coming?”

  “Right about now,” Mason said and pushed the button. A long minute later, the door buzzed and he opened it before Regan could change her mind again. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor. Checking the numbers on the apartment doors, he found the right direction. Soon he rounded a corner and spotted a slim, young woman with auburn hair and an older woman with thick, dark hair pulled into a knot on top of her head, both leaning out of their open doorways.

  “Regan Anderson?” he called out as he approached.

  Regan peered at him. Her eyes widened in shock. “Mason?”

  He grinned. “You got it!”

  “Are you serious? It’s you?” She came all the way out of her door as he approached. So did Mrs. Morales.

  “You know this man?” she asked Regan. “I thought he was the delivery boy.”

  Mason didn’t stop to set her straight. He didn’t stop to say hello.

  He swept Regan into his arms and kissed her.

  * * *

  When Mason let her go, Regan stumbled back against the door frame. The last three weeks had been nearly unendurable, but his presence here made all her anxiety and heartbreak worthwhile. The tall, broad-shouldered man before her was exactly as she’d dreamed he’d be, but so much more so. He wasn’t in uniform, but he was just as handsome in his jeans, a cotton button-down shirt with a dark T-shirt underneath it. He was tall. Really tall. Broad-shouldered. Square-jawed. Masculine in every way.

  She’d spent every minute of every day since they’d stopped talking thinking about their conversations and re-reading the e-mails he’d sent her. She had wanted to prove to herself that he was real—and that he cared about her—but she’d found it hard to keep believing as the days went by and he didn’t get in touch. Her relief at seeing him brought tears to her eyes. The thought that Mason might not be a part of her life anymore had hurt her worse than she had imagined. She thought she’d been resigned to being a single mom and putting romance off indefinitely.

  She wasn’t.

  And now he’d kissed her. Mason Hall had kissed her. Regan’s mouth still tingled from the pressure of his lips. She wanted him to do it again, but at the same time she felt shy and unsure. Mrs. Morales was smiling at them.

  “Your boyfriend, he surprised you, didn’t he?” she said. “A nice surprise!”

  Regan nodded, knowing there was no way she could explain the truth of the matter. “He certainly did surprise me.”

  “You okay with this?” Mason said, bending closer to her. “I can turn around and leave.”

  “No! I mean… come on in. It’s good to see you. I just… are you really here?”

  “I just got out of the military,” Mason explained to Mrs. Morales.

  Her eyes lit up. “Come over later for dinner. I’ll feed you tamales. It’s what I do for my nephew whenever he comes home. He’s a pilot.”

  “That sounds terrific,” Mason said to her, and Regan relaxed a little. The sensible side of her nature told her it was ridiculous to invite a man she didn’t know into her apartment. But Mrs. Morales had seen them together and if anything happened she’d call the police. She opened the door and ushered him in, remembering too late the state of the tiny space.

  “Sorry about the mess,” she said. “I still haven’t figured out where to put everything.”

  “No problem,” he said, taking in the bed, the piled boxes in the corner, the crammed shelves.

  “So… were you ever actually in Afghanistan?” she asked, clasping her hands together nervously. She couldn’t believe Mason was standing here in the flesh—here in New York.

  “Yes, I was,” he assured her. “I was supposed to fly out later, but things changed at the last minute. I guess they got tired of me.”

  “But… why are you here? I thought you would go straight to Montana after you were discharged.”

  He took her hand. “Because,” he said, pulling her closer slowly, this time giving her a chance to pull away, “I couldn’t wait one more day to see you.” He bent down to kiss her and despite her best intentions, Regan found herself tilting her head to kiss him back. He started gently, but soon the intensity of his kiss grew. He slid his arms around her and pulled her tight against his body. Her hands went of their own volition around his neck. She liked the prickly sensation of his buzz cut under her fingers and loved the feeling of his hands low on her waist. She didn’t know how she could have fallen so fast for a man who’d been halfway around the world just a short time ago, but she had.

  “Regan,” he said when they pulled apart. “God, you’re more beautiful than I thought.”

  Suddenly shy, she pulled away and crossed to the kitchen. “Would you like a drink of something? Water? Pop? I don’t have any beer.”

  “Water’s fine,” he said, following her. “I haven’t scared you, have I? Showing up like this?”

  She poured the glass of water. Handed it to him, then leaned back against the counter. “Actually, you have.”

  Mason stilled. “That’s not my intention.”

  “I know, and it’s really good to see you. Really good. The thing is,” she paused, searching for the right words. “Something like this can’t work out. Us—meeting online. Swapping e-mails, texting, Skyping… that’s not the way the world works. What?”

  Mason was chuckling. “Actually, it’s exactly the way the world works. Do you know how many times in history something similar has happened? What about the mail order brides who helped settle the west? They established relationships through the written word, just like we did. They exchanged photos and descriptions of themselves. What we’re doing is much easier. All they had were letters. We had Skype. So a computer screen separated us when we talked, so what? We still saw each other’s faces. We saw each other’s reactions. We know each other just as well as the average couple who meets at a party or bar do when they have their first real date.”

  “I guess so,” Regan said. She wanted to be convinced. She just didn’t want to be stupid.

  “Can we at least spend the afternoon together? Have dinner with Mrs. Morales? She can be our chaperone.”

  “Okay,” Regan said, not giving herself a chance to think it through. “The Morales seem to eat around six. We have several hours until then.” Her skin heated as she thought of intimate ways they could pass those hours. That would be far from a wise choice. Still, she wondered what it would be like to explore the body of this handsome man. What would his skin feel like under her hands? What would he do to her? How would he feel inside of her?

  She looked away, but Mason must have read her mind again, because he came closer, rested his h
ands on her hips and said, “I want to kiss you again. You all right with that?”

  She nodded. She was more than all right with that. When Mason cupped her face in his hands, she tilted her chin up willingly to meet him halfway. Her heart beat strong and fast as their mouths met. This time he pulled her in closer, asking for more—demanding it. She met him with equal passion and longing, sliding her hands up over his chest. He was so big, so strong. She’d never met a man quite like this before, his muscles hard as steel underneath her fingertips. She felt small, fragile, overwhelmed by the tenderness with which he touched her. She had the feeling he was enjoying his exploration of her—that he was okay with taking it slow. At least for now.

  When he pulled back there was a look in his eyes that took her breath away.

  He wanted her. And she wanted him right back.

  “We’d better get out of here before I overstep my common sense,” Mason said. “How about a walk? I could use one to stretch my legs.”

  “That sounds good,” she said gratefully. “Do you want to sight-see or head over to Central Park?”

  “Central Park sounds good,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have a football or Frisbee or something?”

  She brightened. “Actually, I do.”

  Chapter Eleven

  ‡

  Mason took her hand as they left her building, and Regan didn’t pull away. It was a short ride to the Park and then they joined the other sunshine-seekers out for a stroll on this beautiful April day. Every time she was brave enough to slide a sideways glance Mason’s way, she found him looking back at her. His gaze was direct, but not intimidating. She had a feeling he was trying to figure her out in the same way she was trying to understand him. His hand was rough and calloused, his fingers dwarfing hers. It felt right and natural to hold hands with him, though—as if they’d always done this. Did that mean that she’d found someone special? Regan hoped so.

  But what if she had? What could it possibly mean? He was going to live in Montana, and she was due to get pregnant in just under a month. Their lives couldn’t possibly line up. What would a cowboy want with New York? And what would she want with life on a ranch? The very idea was ridiculous. She’d be as out of place there as diamonds on a pig. As lonely as she’d been in these past few months, wouldn’t she be lonelier in Montana—on a ranch in the middle of nowhere?

  Mason interrupted this dark train of thought when he stooped to pick something up from the pavement—a very battered, very dusty stuffed dinosaur, she realized. He scanned the area and honed in on a woman pushing a stroller ahead of them.

  “Be back in a minute.” He jogged up to the young mother striding down the path in black yoga pants and a lime green jacket. Regan watched her look up in alarm at his approach, take in the dinosaur in his hands and visibly relax. Mason bent down and handed the dinosaur to the toddler in the stroller, who lit up at the sight of his toy and grabbed it with both hands. Both Mason and the mother laughed at his delighted reaction. Regan was close enough to hear her thank him profusely for returning the toy.

  “Say thank you to the nice man,” she told her son.

  “Thank you!” the boy yelled enthusiastically.

  Regan let out a long breath, melting at Mason’s answering smile for the little boy. He was kind. Considerate. Thoughtful.

  A real man.

  As he turned, caught sight of her and brightened like the boy when he saw his dinosaur, Regan’s heart soared. This man liked her. Liked her.

  She had the feeling her whole life was about to change.

  Maybe Montana wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  When they arrived at a relatively empty patch of grass, Regan recognized the mistake she had made. Playing Frisbee meant that Mason was standing far away from her. They could chat while they sent the dayglo orange disc back and forth, but they couldn’t touch.

  She wanted to touch. But she wanted to keep things light, too.

  After sending the disc back and forth a few times, and participating in some stilted conversation, she remembered a game she used to play with her sister when they were young. She leaped up to grab Mason’s latest throw and trotted over to him. Taking his hand she tugged him toward a wooded area.

  “You want to play Frisbee in the woods?” he asked. “I don’t think that’s going to work so well.”

  “I want to play target Frisbee.”

  “What’s that?”

  They came to a stop about twenty feet from the trees. Regan pointed to a dangling branch that must have been damaged in a winter storm. “Ten points says I’ll hit that.” She aimed, flicked her wrist and sent the disc on a rather wobbly trajectory that just managed to hit the tip of the dangling branch. “Ten points!” She went to retrieve the Frisbee. “Your turn.”

  “I’ve never heard of this game.”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone’s heard of target Frisbee. It’s super big in the military!”

  Mason snorted at her fake earnest tone. “I don’t think so.” But he pointed to a slightly higher branch. “Fifteen points says I hit that.” He nailed it.

  Regan was impressed, but she wasn’t going to show it. “Anyone could hit that.” She grabbed the Frisbee from him when he brought it back and pointed to a branch angling away from them. “Twenty points for that one.”

  “Give it here—I’ll make that shot.”

  She elbowed him aside. “Wait your turn, sailor. I’ll show you how it’s done.” She was glad to see that Mason could take some kidding around. If he was stiff and formal she wouldn’t have liked him at all. She wanted grownup things—marriage, a family—but she didn’t want to have to act like a grownup all the time. Life was way too short for that.

  Besides, if memory from her teenage years served, sometimes horsing around with a guy you liked could lead to some interesting consequences.

  She flung the Frisbee as hard as she could, but this time her shot was wildly off. Mason laughed out loud, then ducked away when she went after him. She gave chase until he stopped short and she smacked into him. Mason reacted so fast she didn’t know how she ended up in his arms or pinned on the ground beneath him, but there she was flat on her back, and there he was above her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was going to kiss her again.

  She wasn’t mistaken at all.

  When he pulled her to her feet a few minutes later, she felt dizzy. “What was that for?”

  “You missed a shot. You had to take your penalty.” He tugged her along to go retrieve the Frisbee and that’s how they played the rest of the game, taking wilder and wilder shots, racking up points for making them, racking up soul-searing kisses when they missed and holding hands each time they retrieved the Frisbee. An hour later, Regan ached with the desire to get even closer to him.

  When was the last time she’d had such simple fun? When was the last time she’d been with such a sexy, confident man? Her last boyfriend would have had to make every shot just to prove how competent he was. It would have never occurred to him that it could be fun to lose.

  By the time they headed home, their arms around each other’s waists, Regan felt like she’d known Mason for months, not hours. It felt so right to touch him, to talk to him—to lean against him, and even to kiss him. She found herself telling him all about coming to New York, longing for the excitement she thought city life would bring, and how it hadn’t ended up being all it was cracked up to be.

  “What’s the best part?” Mason asked her as they walked down the cracked sidewalk to her apartment building.

  “The architecture,” she said without hesitation. “I’m a sucker for architecture—especially older buildings.”

  “What’s the worst part?”

  “The loneliness.”

  His arm tightened around her waist. “You’re not alone anymore.”

  * * *

  Mason was grateful to have dinner with the Morales. If they’d had dinner by themselves at some romantic restaurant, he probably would have proposed. Regan was all he’d hoped
she’d be and more—beautiful, smart, funny, silly. He’d worried some about coming to meet her so soon after coming home. The truth was, it wasn’t easy to transition from military to civilian life. At times during the last few weeks he’d felt off-balance, like his reactions weren’t in sync with reality. He’d listened to his counselor about what to expect upon reentering society, like coming home from a tour of duty but ten times worse. He’d been prepared to watch his temper and excuse himself if he felt he was veering off course. Since Central Park was a crowded place, he’d cautioned himself that it might not suit him. That maybe it would all be too much.

  Regan’s game had distracted him from anything else, though and he’d had fun today, plain and simple. What a relief to find he wasn’t a ticking time bomb of emotions. Maybe he was better off than most because he had something to look forward to. The return of his family’s ranch. The rebuilding of his family’s livelihood.

  And Regan. Sweet, beautiful Regan.

  If he was alone with her, he didn’t know how he’d contain himself, so it was a good thing that the Morales family would keep him on track. Regan told him she had gotten to know Annamaria because of the Morales’ new baby, Santiago. He was the sweetest infant she’d ever seen and when Annamaria let her hold him she never wanted to give him back.

  Mason’s heart had warmed to hear how she talked about the baby. Regan was a woman who was ready for love, marriage and family. He now thought he was ready, too. When Heloise’s letter had come, the idea of rushing into such an arrangement had stopped him in his tracks, but after today he found that nothing seemed more enticing. Love with Regan. Marriage with Regan. Making babies with her.

  Best not to think about that last one right now, however. Mason shifted as they stood in the hall outside the Morales’ apartment. The door opened and a stocky, black haired, middle-aged man beamed at them.

  “Regan! Come in! Dinner’s almost ready.”

  “Hi Antonio. This is my friend, Mason Hall. Mason, this is Antonio Morales.”