Once a Hero...

by Jillian Burns

  Luke squinted at her. “I told you I’m fine.”

  My God, he looked awful. Unshaven, disheveled, gaunt. She swallowed. “Can I please come in?”

  He shifted weight from one bare foot to the other, then headed into the condo, leaving the door wide-open.

  As she followed him in, he righted a small table between the sofa and a recliner and picked up a lamp and put it on the table. Then he gathered up empty takeout cartons, a couple of beer cans and trash. “Have a seat.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

  The condo was utilitarian. Neat except for the general area around the recliner. But the place was dark and stuffy. The blinds were drawn, the curtains shut. She marched to the balcony, drew back the curtains and pulled up the blinds, and threw open the balcony doors. Fresh sea air and the sound of crashing waves filled the room.

  “Make yourself at home.”

  She swung around to find Luke glaring at her, his hands on his slim hips. He wore nothing except a pair of khaki cargo shorts and a silver chain with dog tags. She drew in a ragged breath. Dog tags that lay on a bare chest sprinkled with light brown hair that tapered down to a narrow line over abdomen muscles so defined that six-pack was an understatement.

  “I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

  He glanced away, his upper body twisting to scan the condo. “No need. I’m probably the one who should apologize.” He squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “It wasn’t you at all. I—”

  He swayed on his feet and stumbled back, stopping himself on the arm of the sofa. Kristen darted forward to catch him, or help somehow, but he gestured for her to stay away and lowered himself onto the sofa.

  “Luke, what’s going on?”

  “Nothin’, I’m fine.” But he laid his head back along the top of the sofa. A dog whined and for the first time she noticed the tan shepherd with black ears lying beside the sofa.

  “What’s with your dog?”

  “Nothing. It’s just a stray. I’m going to take him to the shelter.”

  “Oh.” She sat beside Luke and placed her hand on his arm. “Please talk to me. I just need to know you’re okay. Then I’ll go away and never bother you again.”

  “Kristen.” He lifted his head and met her gaze. His eyes were bloodshot. Just being this close to him made her body ache in all the right ways. “It’s nothin’. I couldn’t sleep, so I took a perfectly safe sleeping pill.” He shrugged. “Or maybe two.”

  Her chest squeezed tight. He’d mentioned having trouble sleeping the night of their first date. But was it worse because of what she’d done to him? He was still slurring his words, maybe he was loose enough to talk to her. But, maybe she shouldn’t take advantage of his weakened state. “Why can’t you sleep?”

  With a sigh, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with his hands. “It’s these damn nightmares,” he said, digging his fingers into his scalp.

  “Nightmares about…”

  “The hospital in Kabul.” Still resting his head in his hands, he slanted his gaze to her and his face scrunched up. “I can’t save them, Kristen. I can’t.”

  “Oh, Luke.” She longed to pull him into her arms, but she settled for placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was hot, almost feverish. She wished she knew how to help him, but it sounded as if he might need more than a friendly ear. “You need to talk to someone about it. Someone who knows how to deal with these things.”

  He blinked and then scowled. “I’m dealing with it.”

  She removed her hand, folded her arms and raised a dubious brow. He broke eye contact and flopped against the back of the couch again. “So, now you know I’m okay, you can go.”

  She straightened. So, that was it? He couldn’t—or wouldn’t—acknowledge there was a problem, much less forgive her. But she still wanted…something.

  She propelled herself off the couch. “Come snorkeling with me in the morning. You never got to go, and I’ve been wanting to go back to Molokini.”

  He studied her, his jaw shifting to the left a fraction. “What’s going on here, Kristen? What happened the other night?”

  “I, uh…” Huh. Be careful what you wish for. She’d hoped she wouldn’t have to explain. If she told him, he’d look at her differently. As though she was some invalid. Or freak. Despite the fact he was a doctor. Or maybe even because of it. He probably knew exactly what a post-op mastectomy looked like. But he was still a man. A man who could be turned off by her scars. Yet she didn’t want to lie to him either. “I just wasn’t ready.” It was her turn to shrug. “I thought I was, but…it’s been a long time.”

  He studied her with narrowed eyes and then nodded. “Okay.” The muscles in his arm flexed as he scratched the back of his head, then his hand fell to his thigh. It was such an utterly masculine gesture, an utterly masculine pose, slumped on the couch with his legs spread wide. “So, what do you want from me?”

  She pictured herself curled up in his arms, snuggling and kissing. She wanted that—desperately. Just that. If he tried to do more, would she be able to let him? “Could we maybe take it slow?”

  “What’s your definition of slow? Do I give it a few days, a week? We’ve only got a couple weeks left here, right?”

  She nodded. “True. I don’t know either.” She bit her lip. Maybe she should just fling her clothes off right now and—

  “I’m sorry. Never mind. How about we just be friends?”

  She blinked. Just friends? “Uh… Okay.”

  He pushed off the sofa, took her elbow and guided her to the door. “You go get that winning photo, okay? And I’m—I’m glad I met you.” He leaned in and caught her gaze, hesitated and then gave her a peck on the cheek.

  She gave him a wobbly smile. She should be happy that they’d worked things out, right? And she was. Friends. They would be friends. And friends did lots of fun things together. “So, you’ll come snorkeling with me in the morning?”

  He shook his head and opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it again. The corners of his mouth curved up, but his eyes still looked sad. He nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good.” He was right. There were only a couple weeks left here. This was probably for the best. She’d be grateful for this relationship, whatever it was, or turned out to be. All she knew was, she wasn’t ready for it to be over.

  6

  AS LUKE SHAVED THE NEXT morning, he took a long look at himself in the mirror. The man staring back was a stranger. What was he doing? Taking sleeping pills? Hiding from life? That wasn’t like him. What would he have done if Kristen hadn’t forced her way into his condo? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that. He shoved away from the sink and stepped into the shower.

  Still, he should’ve told her no. How could he spend the day with her and pretend he just wanted to be friends? And why had he suggested that in the first place? You know why, Andrews. Yesterday, when she’d tried to explain, the fear in her eyes had demolished him. He’d felt like a jerk for even asking. So, they’d just be friends.

  The damned earrings were sitting on his bedside table, mocking him. He’d never been an impulsive person. And this was exactly why. He could stroll over to that volleyball game down on the beach and get himself in the game. In more ways than one. Find a hot girl in a bikini… But he’d never been a real ladies’ man. He was shy, always had been the quiet type. His sister called him introverted.

  All he knew was he found it difficult to initiate contact. Maybe if he had several drinks in him. He could hit one of the local bars, but that hadn’t ended the way he’d hoped at Tradewinds.

  Right now, he had a date to go snorkeling. He probably shouldn’t have agreed to see her today, but telling Kristen no would’ve felt like denying himself sustenance.

  Within ten minutes he’d thrown on swim trunks and a T-shirt and was driving Kristen to the marina. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought the dog, but Luke couldn’t bear to leave the poor guy alone in t
hat condo all morning like last time. The mutt seemed pretty happy, sticking his head out, his ears flying and his tongue lolling out to the side.

  The bright sun hurt Luke’s eyes, even through his sunglasses. But it felt warm on his skin and just being outside after so many days cooped up in the condo sent his senses into overload—the solid feel of the wheel beneath his hands, the briny scent of the ocean, the rough growl of the Jeep’s engine and the dappled shadows cast by tall palms lining the road.

  His heart raced when he looked at Kristen sitting beside him.

  The wind blew her hair all around, and he expected her to be grinning, maybe even throw her hands up and squeal as they zipped around a tight curve. But when he glanced at her she was staring at him, her usual smile missing. What was she thinking behind such a serious expression? Wouldn’t a friend simply ask her?

  Friends. It was crazy. He’d suggested it as a way out for both of them. Had she not seen that?

  A song about a sponge named Bob started playing. Kristen dug around in her purse, pulled out her cell and answered. “Hi, Amy.”

  Seconds of silence were interspersed with “Yeah,” or “Uh-huh” or “Oh, that’s tomorrow?” Then she said, “Okay, I will, bye.” And clicked off.

  “Guess what?” She beamed at him.

  “What?”

  “There’s a luau tomorrow night for Valentine’s Day. Have you ever been to a luau? I have to work, just during the show, but I’ll be off after. I’ve always wanted to see one. This should be so fun. It’s going to be right there on Kamaole Beach. Want to go?”

  He couldn’t help grinning at her enthusiasm. “Sure.”

  She squealed and lunged across the gearshift to give him a quick hug.

  For that moment, speeding down the highway, Luke felt like a king.

  He pulled into the marina and parked, and once on the boat, Luke’s blond-haired, blue-eyed friend stripped down to her short, black wet suit. The T-back was about as revealing as it got. It occurred to him he’d never seen Kristen in a bathing suit. Which was odd. Girls in bikinis were to Maui beaches what cattle were to his West Texas hometown.

  They were everywhere.

  The water must be too cold at the depth she was diving.

  “I haven’t been to the Molokini Crater since you were with us last time,” she said as Kekoa shut off the engine and drifted into the concave side of the formation. “There was a crown-of-thorns starfish I tried to photograph that might just win me the contest, but then my hook broke loose before I could get a picture.” She lifted the lid of a storage box and pulled out fins, vests and snorkeling masks.

  “You’re going back where the current almost swept you away?”

  She stopped and tilted her head, frowning. “Of course. I haven’t got a winning photo yet.”

  “But…” Luke wanted to order her not to go down there again. It was too dangerous. No contest was worth her life. Didn’t she realize how fragile life was? He couldn’t count the number of kids he’d been talking with one day and recording their time of death the next. He saw their faces, dozens of young men and women, as he zipped up the body bags.

  “Luke.” A soft hand rubbed his arm. At the contact he opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful, sky-blue eyes staring up at him. He wasn’t in Kabul. He was out in the bright sun, on a boat bobbing up and down on sparkling turquoise water. He’d had another flashback. They were getting out of control. He apologized as he took the vest Kristen held for him.

  There really wasn’t a graceful way to get into the water while wearing swim fins, but Kristen made it look easy. After some basic instructions on snorkeling, Luke sat on the edge of the boat and shoved off. In one splash he was immersed in cool, clear water. It was exhilarating, refreshing, reviving.

  Once he put in his mouthpiece and lowered his face into the water, he found himself in a magical world. Schools of fish—hundreds probably—with brilliant orange stripes, vivid yellows and neon greens, darted past and back again. There was pink-and-purple coral and giant sea turtles. Far in the distance, Kristen pointed to a couple of white-tipped sharks minding their own business.

  When he looked back at Kristen, their gazes locked and it was as if they needed no words to communicate. This world, a world she spent most of her days exploring, was beyond words. How to describe the beauty, the simplicity, the peace down here?

  But he didn’t have to. He stared into Kristen’s eyes and he knew that she knew. She understood. Because she felt the same way. He knew that, too.

  He wasn’t sure how long they swam and dove and explored. He admitted that when he reflected on this experience it would always seem like a time out of time.

  When they surfaced and climbed back on the Ho`opono, he let her board first. Setting a foot on the bottom rung, he clasped her waist with both hands and lifted her up the ladder. She turned back to him with a look of hot, intense longing. He couldn’t have made himself let go of her then if he’d had a gun to his head. For a second he thought she might lean down and kiss him. Or what if he slid his hands up along her rib cage to cup her breasts?

  He closed his eyes and let his hands drop. She’d made it clear she needed time. Time they didn’t have.

  While Kristen got into her scuba equipment, Kekoa showed Luke the basics of running the boat, the radio and emergency codes. Then Kekoa pulled on his fins and what he called a BCD—a black vest like Kristen’s, only his was bigger and thicker. It was a buoyancy compensator, Kristen explained, that carried an extra oxygen tank with pockets for cameras and ropes. This was state-of-the-art scuba gear.

  It looked heavy and Luke rushed over to help Kristen lift hers up onto her shoulders and push her arms through. It swallowed her up, made her look so tiny, so…vulnerable.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Thank you.”

  Her smile was still missing. He could swear he saw desire in her eyes. If he lowered his head just a few inches…

  He patted her shoulders and stepped away. She blinked, and then followed Kekoa to the boat’s edge. Luke wanted to plead with her not to go. Reach for her, hold her and—yeah, if he did that, he wouldn’t stop there.

  Before he was ready, she pulled her mask over her eyes and nose, stuck her regulator in her mouth, waved goodbye and rolled off into the water. As magic as the underwater world had been mere minutes before, it now morphed into a dark and dangerous place. He wanted to snatch the line attached to the boat that she used to descend, and yank it back up. He felt short of breath and his skin went clammy. If anything happened to her…

  His intellect told him panic was irrational, but the shaking and the flashes of disturbing images didn’t go away.

  He paced the length of the boat, time ticking sluggishly by. The dog whined and followed him, back and forth. Every fifteen minutes Luke checked the line for signs of movement, and then he’d go back to pacing the boat. This was torture. There was nothing he could do. It was the same in Kabul. So much seemed beyond his ability to make a difference. That’s what he couldn’t stand, the helplessness.

  After what seemed like hours, but was probably less than one, the line started twitching and finally—God, finally—Kristen surfaced.

  Once she got halfway up the ladder, Luke gripped her under her arms and hauled her up on deck. Despite her bulky BCD and the mask on top of her head, he held her tight against him and buried his nose in her dripping hair. He felt her arms go around him, her hands rubbing his back and her breath puffing against the front of his T-shirt.

  “Luke?” She tried to pull back, but he tightened his arms. He wasn’t ready to let go. Gradually he loosened his hold and she lifted her face.

  Kekoa had discreetly disappeared into his cabin, and the dog followed, leaving them alone on deck. It took everything in Luke not to kiss her. He made himself smile and step away. “Did you get your photo?”

  She grinned. “I did. I can’t wait to get it uploaded and see how it turned out.”

  “I’d like to see all your pictures sometime
.”

  “No time like the present. Want to grab some sandwiches and take them back to my place? All my work is on my laptop.”

  He must be a glutton for punishment. But Kristen’s photography was such a big part of who she was, and he wanted to know all about it. “Sure.”

  All he had to do was manage to keep his hands off her for the rest of the afternoon.

  KRISTEN HANDED THE BAG with the sandwiches to Luke and fished in her backpack for her key. Memories of the last time she’d tried to unlock this door with Luke standing beside her invaded her senses.

  She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. The air between them seemed charged with—she didn’t know what to call it. Maybe for him it was just awkward. But she’d felt it on the boat this morning, too. Need. Desire.

  Maybe it was a case of vacation fling fever. It’d been years since she’d had sex. But only recently had she felt in any way sexual. For Luke, though, getting some booty had to have been the main goal of this tropical vacation. With all the beautiful women running around in bikinis, he could have his choice.

  So, why wasn’t he—wait, maybe he had, did, was. He didn’t seem like a player, but she barely knew the guy. He could be seeing someone, or even many someones, and she wouldn’t know it. Maybe that’s why he’d been so quick to suggest they only be friends.

  How depressing.

  Shaking off her erratic thoughts, she found her key, unlocked the door and ushered Luke in. He set the food on the kitchen table while she opened her laptop and clicked it on.

  “You want a soda? Or water?” She had to brush past him to get to the fridge.

  “Sure.”

  She grabbed two cans of cola, set them on the table with their sandwiches and then sat at her laptop to open her Maui folder. He pulled a chair around next to her and sat, leaning in close to see the screen. She was hyperaware of his nearness, of his faint but distinctive cologne and of the last time he’d been here. Oh, no. Her face heated.

  “Here you go.” She shoved the laptop in front of him and reached across the table for the cold soda can. Resisting the urge to roll it across her forehead, she popped the top and took a long swallow.