Code Name: Princess

by Christina Skye

  Hawk’s baby had been conceived during a raging storm in an elevator that had stalled—touching Jess’s heart and changing her life.

  A baby was the last thing she had expected. Because of her longstanding hormonal problems, her specialist had finally prescribed birth control pills, and Jess had just begun her first month’s supply when she’d gone to Washington. In her stress and confusion there, she had missed two pills.

  The news that she was carrying Hawk’s baby had been the most wonderful surprise of her life. Jess had confided in her sister as soon as the pregnancy was certain, and now Summer was excitedly researching strollers and cribs, even planning a big baby shower that she thought Jess knew nothing about.

  “I’m going, I’m going.” She smoothed Monster’s shaggy hair. “If Hawk calls me again . . .” She stared at Dutch, trying to seem calm and collected when she was anything but.

  “I’ll get you. I swear it.” The big man cleared his throat. “You’d better tell him this week.”

  “As soon as I get my last blood test back.” Jess’s hands curled protectively over her stomach. “If I pass, everything will be fine. And you know that I feel disgustingly healthy.”

  But the cells nourishing the tiny miracle inside her could fail at any moment, causing her to lose her child. Neither one of them mentioned that, though both were thinking about it.

  A car honked outside. Monster thundered down the hall, barking.

  “That’s Henri with the wine delivery. I’ll take care of it.” Dutch studied the sunny room, the polished wood and the gleaming crystal, shaking his head.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the crystal, I guess. It hits me like that sometimes. A 4-star bed and breakfast on the beach is a damned strange spot for an old, beat-up Marine. I surely never expected to get friendly with a bunch of ugly old Navy farts, either.”

  “It’s hard to know where life can take us,” Jess said quietly. She rested her hand on his callused fingers. “I’ve inspected hotels all over the country and not one was better managed or more beautiful than this.”

  The big man smiled, studying the room with pride. “With your help. I may even have to give you a raise. I don’t want that big resort on the hill stealing you away.”

  Jess grinned. “As if.”

  Monster barked wildly at the back door.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

  Jess watched Dutch limp slowly toward the back door. He smiled more now, she thought. One of her father’s Navy buddies had recommended her for the job of manager and concierge at Dutch’s small enterprise on the rugged northern coast. After one look at the charming pink guesthouses nestled in lush landscape beside the ocean, Jess would have signed on to scrub toilets. Within two months, she had doubled occupancy rates and secured a file full of glowing reviews, and business had never been better.

  Dutch was exuberant, though he managed to hide it.

  He was also as protective as Monster when it came to Jess and her advancing pregnancy.

  But bless the man, he didn’t plague her with questions the way her sister had. He’d only asked the name of the father once. Though Jess was pretty sure he’d gone off to make inquiries among that tight-knit military circle of his, he never mentioned another word to her.

  It was Summer who called once a week to see if Hawk had come to see her yet. Jess explained that he was busy, still involved in the mission. The silence afterward said what Summer wouldn’t.

  That she knew her sister was hurting and she couldn’t bear it.

  Trailing her fingers along a row of framed watercolors, Jess climbed the stairs to her sunny room at the back of the top floor. She stopped at the landing, a silly grin on her lips.

  The door was bright blue, just the way Dutch had described. The paint was still drying.

  Another gift.

  Her room was a small, sunny space large enough for only a bed and a tiny reading alcove, but the trade-off was the balcony with tall French doors. Jess gazed through the glass now at the blue-green panorama of deep coves hugging steep, rugged cliffs.

  After one more blood test, her specialist would give her a clean bill of health. Like her mother, Jess had been diagnosed with a luteal-phase defect that meant miscarriage was a definite possibility. So far the baby growing inside her racked up full points for vibrant good health and growth rate, but anxiety made Jess clam up every time Hawk called.

  She tried to remember the odds, tried not to desperately want the child she and Hawk had conceived in reckless passion, but no amount of logic and sense made her want the baby less. Within seconds of learning she was pregnant, she had wrapped her heart around the idea with no regrets or reservations. She already had plans to teach her daughter—or son—to make soap from scratch, change a Ducati carburetor, and bodysurf in the Pacific.

  Summer would teach the Weaver stance, the rumba, and how to avoid identity theft.

  But first Jess had to tell Hawk about his baby.

  The week before she missed three calls because of time differences as he roamed the far corners of the globe. Another time their connection had failed. Last week she’d told him to set aside time for a long talk tomorrow. Anxious or not, she meant to call him immediately after her last and most crucial medical checkup.

  Inside her room, Jess studied a huge vase of flowers, a gift from Summer and Gabe, who were coming for a visit the following weekend. Several of her father’s Navy buddies were due soon too, ready to dish out tall tales about the father who’d died too young.

  Jess opened the French doors and savored the salty air. Her body was pulsing with energy, and she had a sudden urge for strawberries and an almond milkshake.

  With a side order of Dutch’s homemade pickles.

  But first she was going to take a walk on the beach. Grabbing a hat and sweater, she headed down the winding front stairs through the flower-filled lobby.

  She didn’t hear Monster bark as a sleek motorcycle pulled around back into the service entrance.

  “Where is she?”

  “Beg your pardon?” Dutch put down a case of domestic champagne.

  The man in the black leather jacket had stubble on his cheeks and his eyes looked tired as he slid off the gleaming Silver Ducati. “I’m looking for Jess Mulcahey.”

  Dutch leaned back, studying the man. He noted the muscled shoulders, the careful eyes.

  The hidden restlessness.

  This had to be Hawk Mackenzie, the man he’d tracked across Europe and Asia. The man whose military file he’d raided and researched.

  He was a hero and a loner.

  He was also a heartbreaker.

  Damn the man. If he broke Jess’s heart, Dutch and three of his buddies would tie the SEAL down and cut out his tongue.

  And then they’d do something really bad to him.

  “She’s not here,” Dutch snapped.

  “Then where?”

  “Out.” Defiantly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You her boss?”

  Dutch nodded.

  The man in the motorcycle jacket glared at him. “That better be all you are.”

  Dutch would have decked the man if he hadn’t seen the pain in his eyes. “Mister, the woman’s the same age as my granddaughter.” He moved across the courtyard, painfully aware of his limp. “Give it a rest.”

  Hawk Mackenzie cursed, rubbing his neck. “Yeah, well—sorry. I just wanted to be sure. She doesn’t answer my calls. She doesn’t answer my letters.”

  Dutch crossed his arms. “Because you call at gawdawful hours, boy. And because your letters never have return addresses.”

  “I left an address in San Francisco.” Hawk jammed a hand through his hair. “Probably the mail takes a while to forward. I’ve been on the move.”

  “Care to tell me what you’ve been doing?”

  “No.”

  Dutch nodded. “That’s what I figured.”

  The SEAL glanced at Dutch’s leg. “Vietnam?”

&nbs
p; “Tet offensive.” Dutch’s eyes narrowed. “January 31, 1968. Right before dawn.”

  “I’ve heard some stories.”

  “None of them come close, believe me.” Dutch stared across the sunny courtyard, his head ringing with the echo of mortar fire and incoming Huey’s over the city walls. He forced away the flashback. He’d had enough practice at it by now. “I get by. The leg feels just like the real thing.” He sniffed. “How long are you staying?”

  “Not long enough. So how is she?” His mouth was tense, his eyes scanning the room. “Does she like it here?”

  “Loves it. Took to it like a fish to water. Never seen anyone who’s better with the guests and the staff.”

  “She was damned good at her old job. She always had an eye for schedules and organization. Not afraid of anything either.”

  “I’ve heard some rumors about that. I hear she shot a man. Don’t suppose you’d be more specific,” Dutch said.

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Dutch stared at Hawk for a long time. “She’s upstairs, third door to the left. I told her to take a nap, but she probably won’t.”

  Hawk smiled faintly. “That sounds like Jess.” He slung his helmet and a small knapsack over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. If you hurt her, boy, I’m going to cut out your heart and eat it for lunch,” the limping hero of Hue City said calmly.

  Jess was staring out at the water when she heard Monster bark behind her. As usual, the big dog had insisted on accompanying her down to the beach, determined to protect her against sand crabs and kites and anything else that got too close. Jess smiled as she heard Monster scuttling over the sand. Probably chasing another crab. The dog was decimating an entire species single-handedly. “Leave the poor creature alone, Monster. Otherwise, I’ll have to tell Dutch to—”

  She turned—and all the words dried up in her throat.

  The sweater she’d tied around her shoulders fell. “Hawk.”

  The word was a whisper, a caress, then a breath of overt panic.

  “I’ve only got forty-eight hours,” he said hoarsely. “I jumped a transport at Gatwick, grabbed another one in Virginia, changed in Houston, and—”

  His knapsack fell. He caught her hard against his chest, his eyes closing as he was battered by unbearable emotions.

  She was as beautiful as he remembered and more, but God knows, he wasn’t good at emotions. He still wasn’t used to thinking in terms of two instead of one. As a soldier, his focus was on burying his emotions, not facing them dead on.

  He was trying his hardest, damn it. One of these years, he might even succeed. Meanwhile, he felt like a fish with legs.

  “I forgot this.” He pulled her closer. “How good you always smell.” He buried his hands in her hair, dragging in the rich earthy scents. “Lilacs, cedar and sea salt.”

  “It’s a shampoo I make for Dutch’s guests.” Her head was turned against his chest, and her voice shook. “He wanted something different for their rooms, something they could take away with them to remember the hotel.”

  “Any man would remember that smell,” Hawk said roughly. “Dutch’s one tough coot.”

  “Tough or not, he’s been nice to me.”

  “Yeah, well, the old fool loves you.”

  Jess shook her head. “He’s just worried about . . . things.”

  Hawk lifted her face with his hand. “What kind of things?”

  Jess took a deep breath and tried to pull away, but Hawk tightened his grip, needing to feel her warmth and strength. Her smile was the cure for too many cold nights and too many bleak dreams. She promised laughter and belonging, things that Hawk had given up hope of ever finding.

  “I would have come sooner. Hell, I would have stayed if I could. But there were threads to tie up, Jess. I had my orders.”

  “Don’t apologize. Your work wasn’t done.” She studied his face. “You’re tired.”

  “I hit the runway in San Francisco, then rode straight up. You look amazing. You’re almost glowing.”

  “Must be the sea air.” Jess touched his face. “I hope you got all of them, including Luellen’s husband.”

  “Nabbed him that same day. He hadn’t gotten more than five miles away when we found him. He won’t be bothering Luellen and Ruthie again for a long time.”

  “And that man in the sheriff’s uniform?”

  “He won’t be scaring anyone ever again.”

  “What about those men of his? Will they be freed?”

  Hawk smiled grimly, thinking of the list of charges that Emilio Chavez’s men faced. “Not a chance.” The female FBI agent hurt in Princess’s capture had finally recovered consciousness, but two other agents had died. “Not for about three hundred years. And that’s if they’re lucky.”

  “That’s a relief.” Jess looked down at the sweater clutched between them, covering her waist. “Hawk, I need to—”

  His hands slid up her back as he molded her against his body. “Can we go somewhere, Jess? I can’t stop remembering your taste on my mouth, the little sounds you make when you come, and I want to make you come all night.” His hand opened, nudging her nipple beneath her bra. His jaw hardened as he opened her blouse and savored the beauty of her naked skin.

  His fingers weren’t quite steady, but he didn’t care. He had so many things to ask.

  So many belated promises to keep.

  “Hawk.” Her breath was ragged. “Someone will see us.”

  “We’re alone, honey. Just that damned dog, and I doubt he’ll mind a little discreet nudity.” Hawk freed her breast and ran his fingertips across the dark red crest that tightened instantly. “You’re different. Hell, I can’t remember that much, but I could swear you are.”

  Jess made a lost sound as he pulled aside her sweater, then lifted it while his lips closed around her breast.

  She sucked in a breath. He tasted her slowly until her fingers closed, digging at his hair. He tugged her blouse open, looking at her.

  The need hit him so hard he almost forgot where they were. Finally, he pulled away with a curse, buttoning her blouse quickly. “Come with me, Jess. I rented a room right up the beach.” Desire had burned all the soft, gentle words out of his throat, threatening to overwhelm him. “Say no and I’ll leave. If you don’t want this, I’ll be back on a plane to Europe tonight and I’ll never bother you again.”

  Her fingers smoothed his hard jaw, brushed the new scar above his right eye. “You’d do that?”

  “If you’re not interested, I’d understand. We had two hours in a dark elevator, a drive in a Jeep.” His voice hardened. “Time in a firefight, too. That hardly qualifies as normal courtship,” he added grimly.

  “You want to court me? To get to know me?” Something came and went in her eyes, but damned if Hawk could figure what.

  He shrugged, all his rehearsed speeches swept away. He wasn’t used to facing his emotions, much less talking about them.

  “You sent those people, didn’t you? The boy with the roses. The woman with the hammock. The man who painted my door.”

  “Bright blue.” Hawk smiled crookedly. “I figured you’d like that. I read somewhere that women like gifts.”

  “Women do,” Jess said. “I do.”

  “I want to do everything right, Jess. I want to start where we should have started. I don’t know if I can wait, but I’ll try.” His body was taut, his mind restless with the fantasies that had plagued him for long months. “I can’t forget the way you felt against me that day in the elevator and how you looked when I left.” His voice tightened. “You told me you could feel me. Hell—dripping down your leg. From the amazing sex we’d just had.”

  “It was amazing, wasn’t it?” Her voice was surprisingly grave. “Two hours. Two strangers. Funny how fast things can change.”

  “We aren’t strangers now, Jess, and we’ve got a lot more than two hours.” He traced her breasts, watching her eyes darken. “Let me take you back to my hotel.” He had a sud
den moment of uncertainty that made him stop, take a deep breath. “Unless—”

  Her smile was like sunrise on water, skipping from wave to wave, lighting the small shadowed places where he’d pushed down his fear. “No ‘unlesses’.” She reached into the back pocket of his jeans, dug a little, then pulled out the plastic key card he’d shoved there. “Room 179. Let’s make it someplace we’ll always remember.”

  The relief rocked him back so hard that for a moment he couldn’t speak. His head tilted, resting against her forehead, and a long shudder ran through him. They’d work out their lives, find a way to be together. And when she was completely sure of him, when he’d gotten her stubborn sister to stop hating him, Hawk would take her to a beautiful little hideaway up the coast, make love to her for about fifty hours, then pull out the small, emerald-cut diamond he’d been carrying around for weeks now.

  And if she turned him down, he’d probably shoot himself.

  Her hair drifted over her shoulders as she stood in the wind, her thick, wool sweater caught between them. “So what are we going to do about Monster while we’re having wet, delirious sex?” Her eyes searched his face. “There may be barking involved.”

  “Only by me,” Hawk said roughly. And he wasn’t sure that he was kidding. Even the casual brush of her hand on his zipper had him roaring inside.

  Jess’s fingers touched him again. Her eyes went dark when she felt his taut jeans. Suddenly she rose on her toes, her hands circling his neck. “Don’t worry, Navy. I always—” She stopped, her breath catching. “No.”

  Hawk looked down, frowning. “What is it, Jess? Did you hurt your ankle?”

  She was staring at her sweater, now caught between their bodies. “Not now.” Her face was pale. “Please, not now. . . .”

  “Honey, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Hawk saw something darken her white skirt, saw her sweater fall to the sand, a bright blue pool suddenly spotted with red.

  He didn’t understand.

  She gave a little sob of pain. “I’m so sorry, Hawk. I was going to do this right. I tried to tell you so many times.” She bent over, biting back a moan. “There was a mixup with my pills. My stupid mistake with the storm and the elevator. But now it’s too late to explain because you’re here and I’m afraid—so afraid that I’m losing our baby.”