Force of Nature

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “I know.” Robin took his hand. “I’m glad you waited. I wanted to come, too. Ben was…an inspiration. And not just the way you think, either.”

  Jules laughed. “What way do I think?”

  “You know. He was ready to give up everything for love. If he could do it, yada yada. I mean, sure, that was inspiring,” Robin told him. “But you know when I think of him most?” He didn’t wait for Jules to answer. “When it’s the middle of the night and I can’t sleep and no one else is awake. And I get scared because of what I’ve done. I can’t go back—I don’t want to go back, but it’s dark and I’m alone so I start to doubt myself. And you. I even start to doubt you, and…that’s when I think of Ben.”

  Jules stopped walking. “You know, you can call me,” he said. “Anytime. Day or night.”

  “We’re not supposed to leave our rooms at night,” Robin said. “If I break the rules, I won’t get these day passes and—It’s okay anyway. I chill out pretty quickly when I think of Ben. I think of that photo you showed me, remember?”

  Jules nodded. Ben in his flight suit. It was a nice picture. In it, Ben was laughing, his eyes lit with amusement.

  Robin tugged him forward, the last few steps toward the car. “I think of how perfect and smart he was, and then I remember that you didn’t want perfect and smart. You wanted me. So thank you, Ben. What time is it?”

  Jules looked at his watch. “We still have almost five hours before you have to go back.”

  “Well, come on, then,” Robin said, opening the passenger-side door. “Let’s go find a bar and get shit-faced.”

  Jules stared at him.

  “What?” Robin teased. “Too soon?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Jules laughed despite himself as he went around to the driver’s side. “I’m definitely not ready to make jokes about that, thanks.”

  “Let me know when you are, babe,” Robin said, climbing in. “Because I’ve got a lot of them.” He sobered as Jules closed the car door behind him, too. “Seriously, Jules, I’ve got to be able to laugh about it. It’s…This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And it’s not anywhere near over.”

  “It’s never going to end,” Jules told him.

  “Promise?” Robin asked, and Jules knew they were both remembering his words when he drove Robin to the rehab facility, weeks ago.

  I’m right here. I can’t do this for you, but I’m right beside you, however long it takes.

  “Yeah,” Jules told him quietly now. “You fight this battle, I’ll be there. Right beside you.”

  Forever. He didn’t have to say it. He knew Robin could see it in his eyes, the same way he could see it in Robin’s. They had that kind of connection.

  Jules leaned over and kissed him, and Robin’s mouth was warm and sweet. For the first time, he didn’t taste like rum or whiskey or wine. Jules could have sat right there and kissed him for all five of the hours they had left.

  But Robin started to laugh. “I got fucking Julie Andrews in my head,” he said. “That song from Sound of Music. The movie version. The one she sings to the captain with these perfect Julie Andrews vowels. You know, Here you are standing there loving me. Whether or not you should… Except we’re sitting down and I’m not exactly a nun wannabe.”

  It was a beautiful song. Sappy, true, but when Julie sang it in the movie, it was heartfelt and almost unbearably romantic.

  Unlike “Hooked on a Feeling”—the song that was stuck in Jules’s head. Gee, he couldn’t begin to guess why.

  Robin kissed him again. Harder. Hotter. “Oh yeah,” he breathed. “Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I definitely did something mega-good.” He pulled back to look at Jules. “Did you know that I’ve never made love without being at least a little drunk?”

  “Really,” Jules said.

  “Really.” And there they were, sitting in Jules’s car, staring at each other. “So are you going to invite me back to your place or are we going to waste the rest of this afternoon singing each other songs from The Sound of Music?”

  “I can do a mean ‘I Am Sixteen Going on Seventeen,’” Jules said, and as Robin laughed and kissed him again, his stomach did a slow flip. “I just…I wasn’t sure…” Jules started again. “I didn’t want to push you before you were ready—”

  Robin pointed to his chest with both hands. “Three very long weeks of ready.”

  But unfortunately it wasn’t that simple. “The paparazzi have staked out my condo,” Jules said.

  “Since the alternative is getting arrested for jumping you right here in the car, I pretty much don’t care,” Robin told him. “Drive.”

  Jules laughed as he put his car in gear. It was nice that Robin knew what he wanted, but still…“We could go to a hotel.”

  “No.” Robin was certain. “I didn’t go into rehab to hide from the press.”

  Which was what some of the tabloids were saying, despite the statement he’d made before going in.

  “I’m out,” Robin continued. “So let’s just…be out. Eventually they’ll get used to seeing us together, right? Might as well start today.”

  Jules nodded, unable to squeeze even an okay past the lump in his throat, let alone a full Golly, I love you.

  “Can you maybe drive a little faster?” Robin asked. “We only have five hours. Tick tock.”

  Jules laughed. Only five hours? But when he glanced at Robin, when their eyes met and heat sparked, he realized just how inadequately short five hours could be.

  He turned up the a/c in the car. And burned rubber.

  Pierre greeted Ric enthusiastically.

  Well, it was enthusiastic, considering it was Pierre, and considering it was Ric that he was greeting. Still Ric got a few whole seconds of tail wag and an actual lick on his hand.

  But the kicker was Pierre leaping up onto his office couch to settle beside him, his head on Ric’s thigh.

  “Don’t get up,” his mother said as she followed the dog into Ric’s office. She leaned over to kiss him hello. “How was California?”

  “It was great,” he said.

  “Where’s Annie? Her car’s not in the drive.”

  Nothing got past his mother. “She ran out to the drugstore,” Ric said as she sat down across from him in the new leather chair he’d gotten to replace the one that the forensics squad had drenched with blood. “She needed, you know…Drugstore stuff. Did Pierre behave himself?” he asked.

  “He was very good,” she said. “Although I’d prefer babysitting grandchildren without fur.”

  “I’m working on it,” he told her, then laughed at the expression on her face. No doubt he’d nearly stopped her heart.

  Eyes wide, his mother leaned forward, no doubt intending to grill him further. But Annie came home, opening the outer office door.

  “Hi, Karen!” she called to Ric’s mom, and Pierre shot off the couch and scampered out of the room. “Hey, puppy boy.” Annie’s laughter floated in from the other room. She appeared in the door, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, Pierre in her arms. “Hey, Ric. Did you tell your mom about the Troubleshooters job offer?”

  “Not yet,” he said.

  “You were offered the job? In California?” Karen said it with such a mix of pleasure and dread, Ric had to laugh. His mother wanted him to be happy, but she definitely would have preferred he be happy here in Sarasota, twenty minutes from his parents’ house.

  “Yes and no.” Annie sat down beside him on the sofa. “Tom Paoletti—he’s this former SEAL who runs Troubleshooters Incorporated out in San Diego—he wants to open a Florida branch, and he wants Ric to run his personal-security division.”

  “It’s an excellent opportunity,” Ric said. And it meant no more investigating cheating husbands and wives, although his mother might not have known that that was where he’d gotten the bulk of his income, so he left that part out. “There’ll be some travel involved at first,” he told her, “until the division gets up and running. After that, we’ll be working mostly in Florida.”

>   “The office will be here in Sarasota,” Annie reassured her.

  “Annie’ll be doing some extensive training out in California,” Ric said. “That’ll be one of the longest trips we take. I’ll be going with her.”

  “Will that be before or after you’re married?” his mother asked.

  The silence that followed was painfully awkward. Ric risked a glance at Annie, who was suddenly preoccupied with Pierre.

  Thanks, Mom. Way to go. He was still working out the exact wording of his response—You see, Mom, I told Annie I’d give her some time, so she probably doesn’t appreciate being pressured by my mother—when Annie spoke.

  “I don’t know,” Annie said, answering his mother’s question. “That kind of depends on whether Ric’s going to ask me. I mean, he asked me once, but it was…under somewhat…unique circumstances. It seemed almost accidental, so…”

  Ric’s mother laughed. And she kicked his foot. Hard.

  “Ow!”

  “Did you actually ask Annie to marry you while you were having sex?” Disbelief dripped from her voice.

  Ric looked at Annie, who looked back at him.

  “I was vague,” she said.

  Unique circumstances was apparently not vague enough.

  Karen was shaking her head in disgust. “And you expected her to take you seriously?” She turned to Annie. “He is so much like his father, it’s as if my genes had had nothing whatsoever to do with it.” She sat back in her seat, crossed her arms, and told Ric, “Try it again.”

  “Not with my mother as the audience.” Ric stood up. “Let me walk you to the door.”

  Karen gave him heavy attitude as she stayed glued to her seat. “Your mother as the audience is one way to guarantee that you won’t accidentally ask her again while you’re having sex.”

  Annie was laughing, her eyes sparkling with a mix of embarrassment and amusement, and as Ric looked at her, he realized exactly what she’d said to his mother. That kind of depends on whether Ric’s going to ask me…

  Was it possible…?

  Ric got down on his knees, right there with, yes, his mother as audience. “Marry me, Annie.”

  She was already nodding, her smile lighting the room. “Just say where and when, and I’ll be there.”

  “That’s a dangerous thing to say in front of my mother.” Ric turned, expecting to see Karen unconscious from glee, but the chair was empty.

  She was already gone.

  Annie put Pierre down, and as she kissed Ric, he could hear the sound of his mother’s car in the drive as she pulled away. No doubt racing off to buy the latest issue of Mother of the Groom Monthly magazine.

  Of course, maybe, just maybe, she knew when it was time to make herself scarce.

  But as Ric kissed Annie again, losing himself in her sweetness and heat, all he could think was, Thanks, Mom.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Since her explosion onto the publishing scene more than ten years ago, SUZANNE BROCKMANN has written more than forty books, and is now widely recognized as one of the leading voices in romantic suspense. Her work has earned her repeated appearances on the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists, as well as numerous awards, including Romance Writers of America’s #1 Favorite Book of the Year—three years running in 2000, 2001, and 2002—two RITA awards, and many Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice awards. Suzanne Brockmann lives west of Boston with her husband, author Ed Gaffney. Visit her website at www.suzannebrockmann.com.

  Don’t miss

  SUZANNE BROCKMANN’S

  first ever holiday novella!

  ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

  When an FBI agent and a Hollywood heartthrob tie the knot, what was supposed to be a low-profile ceremony for family and friends snowballs into a thrill ride featuring a nosy reporter, a dashing personal assistant, and a stalker determined to claim the object of his obsession.

  In All Through the Night Brockmann delivers another passionate and electrifying classic, this time featuring an unforgettable Christmas wedding, a reunion of many familiar and beloved characters from SEAL Team Sixteen, the FBI, and Troubleshooters Incorporated—including Sam Starrett and Alyssa Locke—and an unexpected romance.

  “The reigning queen of military suspense.”

  —USA Today

  Available in hardcover for the holidays

  Ballantine Books | www.ballantinebooks.com

  ALSO BY SUZANNE BROCKMANN

  Into the Storm

  Breaking Point

  Hot Target

  Flashpoint

  Gone Too Far

  Into the Night

  Out of Control

  Over the Edge

  The Defiant Hero

  The Unsung Hero

  Bodyguard

  Heartthrob

  Force of Nature is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2007 by Suzanne Brockmann

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  BALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Brockmann, Suzanne.

  Force of nature : a novel / Suzanne Brockmann.

  p. cm.

  1. Private investigators—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3552.R61455F66 2007

  813'.54—dc22 2007013642

  www.ballantinebooks.com

  eISBN: 978-0-345-50046-5

  v3.0