Men of Courage II

by Lori Foster

The drive to his motel took them within minutes of her home, which was a ten-minute drive from Denton Elementary. She could travel the entire length of the town in less than a half hour. But right outside of town, better hotels existed.

  She should have guessed that Hamilton would be staying close by in the shabby lodging rather than putting any distance between them. His organizational skills had served him well in the military. But they would not color her life.

  “I want to go home, Ham.”

  He looked at her, his eyes shielded by the reflective sunglasses, his expression impossible to read. “Not yet. We have some talking to do first.”

  Shaking from the inside out, Liv whispered, “I don’t want—”

  But he’d already opened his door and stepped out. Seconds later, he strode to her side of the car and with both Major Tyne and Captain Nolan in attendance, Liv refused to make a scene.

  Hamilton opened her door and helped her out. He didn’t move away from her or give her any space. With his arm around her waist keeping her pressed to his side, Liv felt his strength and his determination.

  Major Tyne glanced at her, then asked, “Should we accompany you?”

  Why? Liv wondered. Did they expect hysterics from her? Should she fall apart over a father who hadn’t cared, a father who’d willingly walked away from her time and time again? A father who…who…

  Damn it, the tears fell, taking her by surprise, closing her throat and making her chin tremble. She sniffled, struggling to stifle the emotional display, knowing it would have disgusted her father.

  But she couldn’t. And even while it humiliated her, she felt helpless to pull herself together.

  Quietly, Hamilton said, “That’s not necessary,” while gathering Liv close. Warmth and security surrounded her, and pushed her over the edge. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. Damn him, why did her father have to die before they could reconcile? Why hadn’t he come to see her just once?

  Why hadn’t she gone to see him?

  With her face tucked against Ham’s chest, she heard his quiet conversation with the others. He told them to go ahead and get settled in their rooms.

  Captain Nolan put a hand to Ham’s shoulder. “If you need me, Howler, give a yell.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” he replied. Once the two officers had gone inside, Ham’s mouth touched her ear, and he whispered, “I am so sorry, Liv.”

  She shook her head. He had nothing to be sorry about. Ham, like her father, had gone with his heart. They were both warriors through and through, dedicated to their country, ready, willing and able to defend and protect.

  Ham tipped her back and mopped at her face with a snowy-white hanky. “Look at you. You’ve ruined your makeup,” he said with a small sad smile. Then his forehead touched hers. “God, Liv, please don’t. Seeing you cry just about kills me.”

  He wasn’t judging her? Her father would have lectured, would have told her to be strong and dignified. To be brave and suck it up.

  Ham just cuddled her.

  Feeling like a fool, Liv half laughed while taking the hanky and blowing her nose. “So I’m capable of doing what weapons can’t, huh? Wow, I feel powerful.”

  He tugged off his sunglasses, his expression far too serious. “You have no idea how powerful you are when it comes to me.”

  While she reeled from that cryptic comment, he started them on their way again, across the blacktop lot and toward the brick building.

  Tears continued to track down her cheeks. Liv mopped them away and considered what Hamilton might have meant. Surely if she had any real power over him, he’d have been happy to settle with her.

  With his long stride shortened to accommodate her, Hamilton glanced at her and frowned. “I’m sorry about the motel. Denton doesn’t have much in the way of luxury.”

  Taking that as an insult to her home, Liv lifted her chin. “It has everything I need and everything I want. It’s small and quiet and everyone knows everyone.” And then, to ease up on him a little, she said, “It’s a place to put down roots. A place to raise a family.”

  Hamilton paused in the process of opening the glass lobby doors, but only for a moment. His arm went around her waist again and he ushered her down the worn carpeted hallway to the door of his room. The motel was old enough that they still used keys instead of key cards. Hamilton jiggled the lock until the key clicked into place, then held the door open for her to enter.

  He must have come straight to the school, Liv thought, noting his unpacked bags and the stuffiness of the air. Automatically she walked to the window to open it, letting in the fresh spring breezes.

  Hamilton tossed his hat and sunglasses onto the bureau, leaned back against it and watched her with an intensity that should have been reserved for enemy captives.

  Feeling conspicuous, Liv seated herself on the edge of the full-size bed. “Now what?”

  Seconds ticked by before he answered, as if he had to give his response serious thought. “Have you eaten?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Using the hanky, she tried to remove what she could of her ruined mascara. Crying had always been useless, a lesson she’d learned long ago.

  Ham’s gaze moved over her, from her wind-tossed hair to her sensible teacher-type pumps. Disregarding her words, he asked, “You haven’t changed that much, Liv. I know getting upset makes you hungry.”

  “Everything makes me hungry.” Luckily, she had a fast metabolism that kept her from being more than pleasingly plump. “But I can eat at home. Alone.”

  “You need to talk.”

  Pushing both hands through her hair, Liv decided to face his arrogance head-on. “No. I need time to think, and I suppose I have to figure out funeral arrangements—”

  “The military will take care of it.”

  She knew that. A military funeral would be what her father had wanted, certainly what he deserved. Nodding, Liv said, “I still have to make plans. I can’t do that sitting here and chatting about food and sniveling like a child.”

  “Showing that you care isn’t childish.”

  She half laughed. “My father would have disagreed with that. I can’t tell you how many times I got compared to soldiers. How many times Dad pointed out the differences between my soft bed and a battlefield, my security and the danger in every war.”

  Hamilton stared at her hard. “He was wrong, Liv. You’re one of the strongest women I know.”

  The compliment warmed something cold deep inside her, but still she said, “Not strong enough to play second fiddle to the air force.”

  The silence swelled, tinged with anger and frustration. Hamilton pushed away from the bureau to stand directly in front of her, every muscle tensed, his eyes blazing. “I’ve missed you, Liv.”

  Oh, God, don’t do this, don’t do this….

  Catching her arms, he pulled her upright and against his chest. “I’m sorry that I’m here under such awful circumstances. God knows I wish you didn’t have to go through this. But it happened and we can’t change that.”

  She started to turn her face away, and he whispered, almost warned, “Don’t shut me out, baby. Not now. I need to help.”

  Something in his tone penetrated her sorrow. In so many ways, Hamilton had been closer to her father than she had. They’d had so much more in common, he had to be grief-stricken, too. How could she selfishly add to his hurt?

  Fingers splayed against his shoulders, she conceded. “All right.”

  His hands loosened on her arms, became caressing. He shook off the vulnerability as if it had never been there, adopting instead the confidence and arrogance that better suited him. “I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements. All you need to do is tell me where you want him buried, and what you want posted in the local paper.”

  Her lips began to tremble again. From hurt. From long-buried hope. “I’d like him buried here with my mother.” The sad truths of her life intruded. “I know it’s not officially my home.” How could it be, when her entire life had been spent moving from
place to place?

  Rather than question her decision, Ham said only, “I think that’d be best.”

  “Thank you.” Again, she felt the emptiness, the loneliness compounded by her most recent loss. Her words sounded sad and shaken to her own ears. “All my mother’s relatives are now gone, but I still remember the stories she told of walking to the bakery, riding her bike to the same school where I now teach. I know the playground and the movie theater and…” A deep breath helped to steady her voice. “It’s the closest thing I have to roots. Mother is buried here, and so I want Daddy here, too.”

  Hamilton pressed a kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I figured.” His gaze searching, concerned, he said, “The body will be here tomorrow. I think it might be possible to have the funeral on Friday. Is that okay with you?”

  So soon. Again, her heart clenched, the pain close to crippling. Her daddy was really gone. Between his lack of interest and her own stubbornness, so much time had been wasted. She could have gone to see him, whether he wanted her there or not. She could have insisted he come to her college graduation, or…

  This time Hamilton’s kiss landed on her lips. A light, barely there kiss, but it obliterated her distressing thoughts, overcoming them with pure sensation.

  “Don’t do that, Liv,” he murmured, his mouth still touching hers. His hands tangled in her hair, angling her face up to his. “Don’t beat yourself up with regrets. Nothing was ever your fault.”

  She’d believed that—until now. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I should have—”

  “No, baby. He should have.” Hamilton kissed her again, harder this time, a kiss of resolve and heartache, a kiss that nudged at the grief and curled her toes. “Weston made a damn fine colonel, one of the best. He was brilliant and strong, a natural-born leader.” Hamilton swallowed and his jaw worked. “He was an asset to our country, but we both know he could have been a more attentive father.”

  “He gave everything he had to the military.”

  Trying to force her to his will, Hamilton held her gaze. “But plenty of guys balance it, their careers, their families. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, all or nothing.”

  “For me it does.”

  Her statement fell like a sledgehammer, and suddenly new emotion darkened Hamilton’s eyes. “This is hard for you. That’s why I want to help get you through it. I don’t want you worrying about it. It hurts me to see you hurt.”

  Liv caught her breath—and then his mouth was on hers, devouring, seducing, coaxing. No simple kiss, this. He consumed her, devastating her emotionally and physically. His taste stirred her, his dark, distinctive scent filled her head.

  He teased with his tongue, then sank in to make love to her mouth. Before Liv even realized it, she had her hands on his neck, feeling the muscles there, his short-cropped hair, his heat. Time apart, hurt feelings and resentment all melted away. This was familiar. Necessary. Sadness morphed into desperate aching need.

  With a groan, Hamilton slipped one arm around her waist, angling her in close to the hardness of his body. There’d only been a handful of times that he’d ever held her like this, and not at all since she’d become determined to get by without him. Not once, not ever, had she forgotten how wonderful it felt to be in Hamilton’s arms.

  His strong steady heartbeat reverberated against her breast. His heat wrapped around her, making her light-headed and too warm. Overwhelmed by her own powerful response, she tried to retreat, but he tangled his fingers in her hair with his free hand and held her head still while his mouth ate at hers with voracious hunger.

  Too many sensations rioted inside Liv. She couldn’t fight them, not now. His tongue stroked, his teeth nibbled, and she wanted him, had always wanted him.

  Rising on tiptoes, she aligned her belly with his groin, pressed in against his throbbing erection—

  And suddenly Hamilton stepped away from her.

  Without his support, Liv would have stumbled back onto the bed if he hadn’t quickly caught her shoulders. Just as quickly, he released her again. He breathed deeply. His nostrils flared, his cheekbones burned. She stood, shaky, devastated.

  One look at her face and he swore softly, running a hand over his short dark hair, his other hand curled into a fist. Sexual tension rippled in the air, and heat poured off him.

  Giving her his back, he growled, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

  It sure felt like he’d meant it.

  Licking her swollen lips, Liv tried to come up with a coherent response. Her body throbbed and her heart raced, and a sweet ache had invaded her limbs. Given the circumstances, lust should have seemed a disgraceful thing, but she’d never felt shame with Hamilton. He was the only man who could make her forget herself, her surroundings and any sense of propriety.

  The fact that he’d lost control, too—a rare event indeed—made her own loss easier to take.

  When she said nothing, he glanced over his shoulder at her. Assessing her with a probing look that scanned from her tear-reddened face, her laboring chest, to her unsteady legs, he cursed again. “Stay put. Give me one minute to change and we’ll get out of here.”

  Her chin lifted. “Away from temptation?”

  Narrowing his eyes, Ham said, “Don’t fool yourself, Liv. You always tempt me, no matter where we are.”

  Stomach doing a free fall, Liv sucked in needed oxygen. Because leaving on her own seemed unlikely, given she didn’t have a car and she looked like hell, she dropped to the edge of the bed. She didn’t have to reply to Hamilton one way or the other. He’d already grabbed up his bag and gone into the bathroom. The door closed with a quiet click.

  With a feeling of helplessness, Liv covered her face. The next two weeks would try her resolve, but she’d get through it. She’d made a life for herself in Denton, Ohio, and no one, definitely not Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton Wulf, would rob her of the peace she’d found.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LOVE, TENDERNESS and carnal need still gripped Hamilton as he drove to Liv’s house. Calling himself three times a fool, he looked over at her. Eyes swollen from tears and dark from smudged mascara, she kept quiet, her thoughts contained. She held her shoulders stiff and her back straight in true military fashion—thanks to the teaching of her father, a father she’d just lost.

  And he’d come on to her. One minute more, and he’d have had her stretched out on the bed, his hand in her panties, his mouth on her breast….

  His timing couldn’t have been worse, but God, it infuriated him whenever she ranked him in the same category as Weston. Hamilton had a load of respect for Weston Amery as a military officer, but very little for him as a father.

  How in hell could a man ignore his own daughter as thoroughly as Weston had?

  She’d never been a priority in his life, and once Liv’s mother had passed away, she’d lost her father, too. Weston had quit any pretense of paternal regard beyond the occasional criticism, and had thrown himself into his field operations. Career military—yeah, that described Weston all the way. Only he’d made career military seem like a nasty thing to Liv, an excuse to disregard family obligations when nothing could be further from the truth.

  The military husbands and wives that Hamilton knew were more dedicated, more caring, because experience had taught them the value of family. They knew exactly what they missed while on assignment. They knew the hardship their partners endured, the number of responsibilities that they carried alone. It was all tough, but for them, separation was by far the greatest trial in serving their country.

  Because of what they saw and did during wartime, they lived with a reality that few civilians ever had to face. They understood how easily a loved one could be lost, and they compensated by pouring more attention and affection on their wives, husbands and children. They didn’t take their lifestyles for granted, and they couldn’t be complacent about the gifts in their lives.

  But thanks to Weston and his callous attitude toward his own daughter, Hamilton was stuc
k trying to work his way past her understandable prejudices against the air force.

  He had two weeks. Fourteen lousy days to make her understand that they belonged together.

  Hell, they were both of an age that they should have settled down. Hamilton knew why he hadn’t. Other women could relieve a temporary ache. He could lose the sexual edginess, but the awful loneliness remained because Liv Amery was the love of his life, a woman who’d taken up residence in his heart.

  She was stronger than she realized, too. She had the balance of backbone and empathy necessary to be a lieutenant colonel’s wife, to pick up the familial slack when duty took him away from home. She had enough guts to weather the storms of war, and the loyalty to wait, to pray and worry, and accept him when he returned.

  But he loved her enough to want to spare her that.

  Yet, given that, at twenty-seven, she’d never had a serious relationship, Hamilton had to believe she loved him, too.

  His Liv was stubborn; she had that in common with her dad. She was also beautiful, inside and out, another fact to which she seemed oblivious. Again and again, his gaze was drawn to her. Seeing her seated rigidly as far from him as she could get in his rented car put an ache in his heart, and expanded his determination.

  Pale brown hair hung to her rounded shoulders, tangled by the wind and her own frustrated hands. Red highlights glinted beneath the sunshine, though Liv always denied any red in her hair. Her eyes looked bluer than ever after the rush of tears. Her lips were puffy, her cheeks blotchy…and he wanted her so much, restraining himself took Herculean effort. He’d given his body to other women, but never his heart. And until he could give Liv both, he wouldn’t feel complete.

  Thank God for the aviator sunglasses that hid his innermost thoughts. Liv had always been able to see through him. One look and she’d know what he wanted and how he intended to get it. Ruthless—that could describe his current frame of mind. But damn it, he’d waited long enough. He couldn’t wait anymore.

  All he needed was some reassurance. Before he spilled his guts and made melodramatic vows of lifetime love and commitment, he wanted her to admit to her own feelings.