Hot Alpha SEALs: Military Romance Megaset

by Sharon Hamilton

  The town was known for having one of the first children’s libraries in California. It also had a children’s theater around the corner from where Shannon had taken her swimming lessons.

  She remembered the lifeguard/instructor with shocking white-blonde hair and brown eyes, the one who always had a thick layer of white zinc oxide on his nose. He wore dark-rimmed sunglasses and had the physique of Michelangelo’s David, or Adonis. The worst memory was from when she was eight, and would always belly flop if he tried to help her do a front dive into the pool. His habit of putting hand on her tummy right before she launched her dive had flustered her, and always landed her in disaster. Did he ever catch on?

  She wandered over to the Children’s Theater, finding the doors open. Several children and one adult were on stage, with a director sitting three rows up from the stage, barking instructions.

  She turned left, sure that the room was still there, and it was, and unlocked. The wardrobe closet was her favorite childhood memory. Barely big enough to walk down the aisle for a child, the woman who had worked there for thirty years, Peg, was twice the size of her mother, but somehow made it up and down the rows of sequins, feathers and silks, remembering every jacket, every pair pants, every cummerbund, petticoat or pair of wings, and what size child they would fit. Her loving hands turned plain children petrified to get up on stage into magical creatures. In their finery, they would parade back and forth, becoming kings and queens, knights and dragons, butterflies and birds and pumpkins, and a host of other things they’d never thought they could be. The imagination and silliness of childhood were allowed to run free in the Children’s Theater.

  Shannon thought she’d let Courtney take an acting class here. She hoped Courtney would get her first kiss from a boy covered in greasepaint, her little heart going pitter-pat.

  At the end of the first row of costumes Shannon got to her knees. Carefully, on all fours, she crawled under the red petticoats of the can-can dancers and lifted the glittery finery. She was looking for her inscription written in pencil on the wall.

  Shannon Loves Richard.

  She recognized her handwriting. Sitting under the mass of red petticoats, with her back leaning against the wall, the baby kicking in her belly, she touched the letters she had scrawled. With one hand on her abdomen and the other pressing against her letter to her future self, she felt the distance between where she had been and where she was now.

  This place could be where Courtney could grow up. She could tell her all about her days here, the piano lessons with the teacher who had performed at Carnegie Hall when she was young, but who lovingly placed her gnarled and crippled fingers over Shannon’s small ones, asking her gently to stretch wide.

  “Grow into your piano hands, Shannon. You must stretch and grow into them.” And gnarled and crippled or not, her fingers had smooth and soft, her handwriting perfectly formed as she jotted down the lessons with a soft pencil.

  Riding her bike with the breeze running through her hair had been pure pleasure in those days. She’d watch the big houses with the beautiful yards go by one by one. Imagining the stories, the families inside, and wondering what they were doing, she rode almost invisibly down the heavily tree-lined streets of a community of people who cared about their children. Her stories were her future, riding her bike up and down the rounded curves from the sidewalk to the streets and back again, trying to envision a life like the one she was leading now.

  But she’d also felt confined here as a child, with all these things to do, with her parent’s high expectations she could never completely live up to. She’d grown up rebelling somewhat, then deciding to strike out on her own. She ran away from this vanilla life and lifestyle. Doing it her own way became more important.

  But now, she saw the beauty of it. She saw how it enveloped and protected her. She began to realize that the childhood she had lived she also wanted for her daughter. The two of them together would find that safe, comfortable place.

  She was alive and happy now, although a widow, with a child not yet born, living in a place that reminded her of a past she could not have any longer, contemplating moving to a place where she could create a future all by herself.

  This was going to be good. The little house she’d made an offer on was only three doors down from the home she grew up in. Smallest house on the block in need of the most repairs. But it would do. Shannon’s past would shield her daughter’s future.

  She needed to go back to San Diego. Put the little house up for sale and move. When she told herself it was no big deal, she knew there was a lie hidden in there, but her determination and the help of her parents would see her through. One more hurdle. Just a few more days.

  And then she’d tell T.J. what she’d decided.

  Her parents were thrilled with the news. The move wouldn’t be like the last time, when she had just graduated from college, an eager young woman off for her first job, a great adventure in a town full of hunky Navy guys. A safe place to be, her friends had said. Lots of sunshine and mild climate. Nights full of stars.

  It had been one of those starry nights when she’d met Frankie. They’d graduated BUD/S and were getting ready to deploy for the first time. She didn’t even know what a SEAL was until she’d met him. He was forever with his sidekick, T.J., and her distrust and dislike of him was instantaneous.

  Now she knew why. T.J. had wanted to insert himself between her and Frankie. He was protective. Never having anyone to protect him except a system that had failed him miserably, he wanted to take care of Frankie, even if Frankie didn’t even know he needed taking care of. He’d fixed him up with girls T.J. liked, but who scared Frankie to death.

  Shannon smiled at this. He’d been so tender with her. She owed a lot to Frankie’s best friend. Without her intimate afternoons with him, when she explored the depths of her heart and soul, she would never have been able to find the strength to contemplate moving back home. She hoped he would understand. And that one fine day he would have a woman and a home of his own.

  His quiet confidence had instilled in her something special, like Frankie had. T.J. had shown her the way to go on, to deal with life on life’s terms, that every day was a gift.

  He would forever be special to her. And she’d make sure Courtney knew him as her daddy’s best friend, but not as her lover. Wrap up a few more details, and then she’d go home, sell the house, and get on with her life.

  Telling T.J. he would be welcome to come visit, but not share her bed any longer, would be the hardest part. She hoped this gentle warrior would in time forgive her for parting them, even though she didn’t have a clear-cut future.

  For the first time in her life, she didn’t have definite plans. Her plan was simply to live. To raise her daughter. To work hard to be the kind of mother Frankie would have wanted, give back to her parents the kind of love, through Courtney, they gave her growing up.

  She went shopping with her mother for things for the new house. They talked over lunch like they had when she had her first department store job when she was still in high school.

  Courtney went with her mother to interview a new doctor, a woman doctor this time, who didn’t ask where her husband was. She still wore her wedding ring, the simple gold band that was the only thing Frankie had been able to afford. She made diagrams and drew out the furniture she would bring up. She laid out Courtney’s nursery. She thought about the vegetables she’d plant and she interviewed her realtor’s gardener. She found a new place to have her car serviced.

  T.J.’s texts finally stopped abruptly one day, as if he’d had a premonition about her plans. Day after tomorrow she’d return to begin the packing and moving process. With her parents as co-signors on the loan, there wasn’t an issue about her qualifying. The death benefit was more than ample for her down payment. She knew Frankie would approve.

  Now if she could figure out a way to tell T.J. without breaking his heart.

  And breaking her own in the process.

  Chapte
r Thirteen

  ‡

  T.J. and Gretchen were soaked with sweat after the dancing. He took her to a local ice cream shop. Kate and Tyler were babysitting the girls, who were happy Mom had found another guy. Always on the lookout for a new daddy, they weren’t very subtle about it.

  But T.J. knew there was only one woman for him. And he also knew Gretchen understood that, although she didn’t know who she was. Kate’s sister was easy to be around, warm of spirit and gentle on the eyes. A man could do far worse. But he knew that wasn’t what he was interested in. He was marking time until his life could start in earnest, giving Shannon all the room she needed so she’d come back to him. He was nervous, but believed deep down she’d come back to him. Whatever had gotten hold of her—and he doubted there was another man, probably an out-of-the-blue notion of what she felt she had to do—once she got over that, she’d be his forever.

  But, God, the waiting was hard. But it was fun to spend it with Gretchen. She was easy to be around, and he found he liked making her happy.

  He’d taken her to a place in the hills overlooking the twinkling lights of the bay. Her eyes had gotten larger and larger, her breathing hitched, her nostrils flared when she figured out where they were going.

  “Just what did you have in mind, T.J.? Did I miss the memo?” she asked him. She was not smiling.

  “I don’t know. I was inspired to bring you here and see what happened.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

  T.J. laughed. Why did it please him so much she said that? “I thought we could do a little fooling around.”

  “I’m shocked. I didn’t think you thought of me that way.”

  “You said we weren’t going to have sex.”

  “And you’re right there. So what are we going to do?”

  He’d pulled to a gravel shoulder on the road that wound through the foothills, angled the car toward the bay and turned it off.

  “First,” he said softly as he looked at the lights and not her face, “I’m going to kiss you.” He turned and cocked his head. “I bet you’re a good kisser.” He smiled.

  It was her turn to look at the lights. She swallowed. The gentle rise and fall of her chest was touching to him. He could see her heart beating. He could pretend that he cared for her in that way, but he wasn’t going to. He was only going to give her a little warmup, introduce her to herself, he thought. He had to laugh at himself. He’d been so used to doing bondage things to push the limits of trust between him and his sexual partners, now giving Gretchen a few gentle kisses and caresses was, surprisingly, more thrilling than all that other stuff.

  “Come here, Gretchen. Am I so hard to look at?”

  “No, T.J. Not at all. It’s more like, well…I thought we were friends.”

  He snaked a forefinger down her temple, around the backside of her ear, tracing a line under her chin, and then turning her to face him, teasing her. “We are friends, Gretchen. And I want to kiss you.”

  She melted under his touch. He could feel her pent-up need, the flick of a spark ignited inside her. He wasn’t the one doing it. She’d merely uncovered the layers of things she’d told herself she needed to do without to stay sane. He could tell she wasn’t ready to be celibate, alone. Someone would discover in Gretchen a devoted mother and wife. Someone capable of treating her like the gem she truly was.

  After their lingering kiss, she rested her head against his chest. He traced figure eights on her upper arm and thought about all the country songs that took in this moment between them. All of them clichés.

  “God, I’d missed this, T.J. Was it like this for you in high school?”

  “It wasn’t this quiet. Usually I was at a soccer game or at a party.”

  “Didn’t you ever park and make out? Just kissing, and you knew nothing else would happen?”

  “Not really.”

  She giggled. “Of course. You. The bad boy. Shannon told Kate all about you, and Kate was careful to edit the conversation.”

  He smiled at hearing Shannon had talked about him.

  “I honestly thought you’d wind up with Shannon.”

  “That chapter hasn’t been written.”

  “But she’s moving away.”

  “So I hear.”

  Gretchen leaned forward, turned and faced him. “You’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

  He tried to smile, but it was awkward. Involuntarily he looked away as his eyes filled with water.

  “Oh. My. God. T.J. you’ve been hiding this. From everyone.”

  “No one to tell.”

  “Does she know?”

  There was that question. At least it was one he could answer. “Oh, yes, she surely does know.”

  “She’s coming home day after tomorrow.”

  “She hasn’t told me. Actually, she’s stopped communicating with me altogether now.”

  “Are you going to try to change her mind?”

  “If I can, Gretchen. If I can.”

  “She’s nuts. She’d be crazy not to want to come home to you. You’ve got to go for broke, T.J. You’ve got to make a stand. Don’t let her get away.”

  “Gretchen, I love your optimism. But haven’t you heard that saying, ‘You can lead a horse to water…’”

  “Is that how you got through the BUD/S training? Is that how you do it when you go overseas?”

  He had to admit, she was right. It wasn’t how he did it. They all had a plan. They had missions to accomplish. They didn’t sit there and let insurgents and enemies come after them, they took the fight to them. They openly protected the people they were sent to watch over.

  “Gretchen? I think I love you.”

  She giggled and it made his heart sing.

  “I think you’re the first woman I’ve told that to who hasn’t had sex with me first.”

  “Then I take that as a compliment, T.J. And if Shannon is nuts enough not to fall into your arms, well, I’m not ashamed to say I’d not mind being a welcome distraction. I think I could do makeup sex pretty good, although I’ve never tried.”

  “I’ll bet you could,” he said.

  He realized now what he had to do. He had to fight for her. With everything in his being, he had to fight to keep her. Because it was a matter of life or death.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  Shannon flew back to San Diego, and the heaviness in her chest increased the closer they got to landing. Joe met her at the airport, asking about her stay with her folks and how they were. She knew it was just small talk, because Joe had called several times while she was gone to inquire about her. She knew her mother had told them Shannon was considering a move back home.

  She wondered if that message had gotten back to T.J. She realized this had been a mistake, and hadn’t shown him the respect he deserved. But until her plans were firm, and it was important she make them without T.J.’s considerable influence over her, she didn’t want to face him. Being around him made it difficult to think.

  Joe helped her with her bag, bringing it up the shallow steps to the front porch. One of the reasons she liked this house was the way the little concrete steps had been colored red. The concrete had been stained before it was poured, forever committing to that rosy hue. The heavy oak door had a small window in the center of it, covered by a Spanish wrought iron detail. She’d loved this door, and the way it protected her home inside.

  She was surprised it still felt like her home. Or their home. Hers and Frankie’s. And the home where T.J. had told her he loved her, the safe place where she’d learned that she could go on.

  Joe quietly stayed behind her, allowing her entry, and, without stepping inside himself, set her bag down on the wood floor and said his goodbyes, promising to look in on her tomorrow.

  “You’ve gotten much bigger these past few days. Are you comfortable?” he asked.

  “Not quite uncomfortable yet, still able to sleep, thank God. But soon. It will get dicey soon.
” She decided not to bring up her move, which would happen in the middle of her eighth month, which she was surprised she’d agreed to do. But it had seemed important to bring Courtney home to her new little house. To their new life together.

  She listened to the creaking of the floorboards, took in the way the house smelled. A large bouquet of red roses was on the dining table. Her fingers were trembling as she plucked the little card from its holder and read T.J.’s inscription.

  Missed you more than I thought possible.

  I know we have to talk. But just know that I love you.

  She rubbed her forefinger over the words he’d carefully inscribed. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

  Doors to the master bedroom and the baby’s room were closed. She smelled cleaning agents and realized someone had gone all-out to prepare for her return to this house, prepared it as though she was going to stay. The windows had been washed. Area rugs had been cleaned, and larger ones freshly vacuumed.

  Opening the door to her bedroom, she looked outside at the play house T.J. and Joe had put together only two weeks ago. Someone had planted flowers all around the little house, as if she were staying. And she could just see a tiny table with a miniature tea set inside.

  A small wading pool with pink mermaids on it and fresh, clean water filling it, with a child’s seahorse life preserver bobbing up and down in the shallow water. Ready for Courtney…in about a year. There was a two-bucket swing set installed at the side of the yard. An old-fashioned bench swings with green canvas canopy sat under her maple tree, with a couple of new flowered pillows on top. Everywhere she looked, a bit of magic had been added, painted, or enhanced by colorful plantings.

  She went back inside and felt like she was coming back to a lovely familiar dream. If a house could love the people who lived in it, this one did. Just as Frankie had. Just as T.J.—she had to stop thinking about him, or it would be more difficult to continue with what she’d decided to do.