Anything, Anywhere, Anytime (39 page)

Forever.

Monica stared straight into Jack's eyes and knew his words before he said them. But Lord have mercy, she looked forward to hearing them.

"I love you, Monica Hyatt Korba. And, God willing, I'll spend the rest of my life right by your side making sure you're never alone again."

His words melted her insides, melted her against him.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned against her lips. "Digging deep sure has an awesome payoff."

Jack cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. All-out. Full body press and fuller emotions. Monica flung her arms around his neck and quit trying to figure out what he meant by that last cryptic comment. Who cared right now, anyway, and who the hell cared about any regs on public displays of affection while in uniform?

She was kissing her husband and could have sworn she heard the strains of "Can't Help Falling In Love,"

what she now considered Elvis's best tune ever. A whimsical thought, whimsy being something she hadn't indulged in often. Until Jack. It felt as good as the rippling muscles and man under her hands.

She eased her mouth from his. "Jack, I love you so damned much and I intend to spend the rest of my life showing you." One last concern niggled her. "More than anything I want us to celebrate forever from side-by-side retirement rocking chairs where we can talk about our children and grandchildren. But I can't promise you I won't die on you before then. My job has taught me too well how fragile life is. Your job does, too, for that matter. I'm careful. You know that. But is that enough?''

How strange that when her ex-fiance had pushed her-to the wall about quitting her job she couldn't imagine backing down. Yet, she knew she would do whatever it took to make Jack happy and give him peace.

"I'd be lying if I said I don't want to wrap you up in cotton and keep you as far away from this kind of shit as I can." His arms banded around her, loosely, supporting without constricting. "But I know you. I respect you. The last thing I want is to change you. When push comes to shove, I'm there for you. Whatever you need or want or choose, I'm behind you."

No wonder she loved this man.

And he
had
been there for her today. Even though she'd sensed his fear of losing her, he hadn't tried to stop her. Not even for a second, much less the prolonged battle of wills they'd gone through a week ago.

She wasn't naive enough to think they would never argue or knock heads. But bottom line, they now had unreserved love, and, yes, respect for each other. "What did I ever do to deserve you?''

"That's just it, babe. Things like trust and respect are earned and deserved. But love? Well, it just exists of its own free will. What a damned fine thing, because otherwise we'd always have to worry about it being taken away the first time we screwed up. And the way I figure, it's a sure bet I'm going to screw up on occasion down the line."

That simple and clear. He loved her. It made so much sense now that she'd stopped to listen to him instead of always telling him what he should be thinking and saying.

She toyed with the tab on his flight suit zipper. "Making up is fun."

"So I hear." He flicked her zipper tab right back.

Just because he was laid-back and loping through life didn't mean he wasn't very aware and always planning. She could learn more than a few things from this wise and oh-so-funny man she'd married. "I really do love you, Jack."

"I know."

And she saw that he did. She'd been given the gift of his love, but she'd also won his trust.

A planeload of people waited behind them. Still she couldn't stop herself from taking a few more seconds to savor the moment. She glided her hands over his bristly face full of hard angles, strength and sun-bronzed laugh lines. Exhaustion carved a few extra creases around his eyes, reminding her he was her patient as well as her husband today.

"Okay, flyboy, as your doctor
and
your concerned wife, I'm telling you it's time for you to get in that plane and take a load off. You've been up for over twenty-four hours. Fought in a war. And been shot in the ass."

She jabbed a finger toward the load ramp. "Move it."

He hooked an arm over her shoulders again, making his way toward the open load ramp. "God, I love it when you get bossy."

She wasn't sure if his leaning came from a need for support or a need to touch her. Either way, she wasn't complaining, not even when he grew heavier during the last few steps. "I'm not bossy. Just assertive."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you want, I'm game."

She pinched his side just as they reached the aircraft. "Zipper-suited sky gods and their egos."

"Mouthy and bossy." His boots thundered on the base of the metal ramp. "Babe, you're turning me inside out."

"Get used to it, flyboy," she whispered in his ear. "I've got ideas for what we can do in those retirement rocking chairs."

"Anything. Anywhere. Anytime. I'm your man."

Five minutes more and he could peel off his flight suit.

Jack hauled his weary body down the long corridor of the Warrior Inn toward his VOQ room at Nellis AFB, debrief for his flight completed before sundown. What a way to spend his one-year wedding anniversary. TDY alone in Vegas. Monica TDY elsewhere. But that was military life. They would just have a helluva celebration in Charleston in a couple of days.

Making tracks through the crew dogs packing the halls, Jack smiled, tossed nods, turned down invitations to head out to eat. He only wanted to find his bed and the telephone so he could call his wife.

He angled sideways around a cleaning cart, eyeing his door and already thinking up at least eleven different ways to romance Monica over the phone. Life was good.

"Sir," the uniformed maid called, steadying a tottering pile of towels, "I went ahead and let your wife into your room. I hope that was all right."

Wife? In his room? Life was about to get a helluva lot better. Anticipation punted exhaustion clean away.

"Absolutely all right. Thanks!"

His double-timed steps thundered down the carpeted hall. A swipe of his key card and he swung the door wide to find, oh, yeah—his wife.

Major Monica Hyatt Korba reclined on his bed in her flight suit, her sock-clad feet crossed at the ankles.

Crooked in the corner of her arm, she held his box of Froot Loops. "I hope the King's not too tired for a chorus of 'Are You Lonesome Tonight' followed by breakfast in bed."

"The King's very ready to step up to the mike for a performance. And more than one encore." Kicking the door closed, Jack sprinted across the room and fell on top of her. The bounce of the bed launched the cereal box and rained Froot Loops around them.

He captured her mouth with his. Breakfast at night never tasted better.

Caramel hair swirled around her shoulders, waves crimping it from hours spent restrained in a French braid. His fingers combed through, couldn't get enough of the silkiness or the woman. "God, Monica," he groaned, rolling to his side, sweeping back her hair and enjoying the vision of her in his bed. "I can't believe you're here."

"It took some wrangling, but I worked it." She nipped his bottom lip, her eyes fluttering open to peer at him with emerald intensity. "I wanted us to have time alone together before all the family comes in this weekend for the baptism."

Quiet settled between them. Jack tucked her closer, brushed another kiss over her forehead, giving her the silent moment of comfort he knew she needed. Coming to grips with Sydney's capture had been an ongoing process for all three of the sisters, but they were women of grit. Perseverance. Slowly, healing came for all of them.

After a couple months of soul searching, Sydney decided for sure on adoption—an open adoption with Daniel "Crusty" Baker and his wife. Sydney and Blake had spent the last weeks of Sydney's pregnancy in Charleston with Monica so she could be on hand to assist with the delivery. Family pulling together. Finally, Sydney found peace in knowing her baby girl was being welcomed with undiluted joy by a couple who yearned for a child to cherish along with Crusty's two young half brothers.

Now Sydney and Blake were both ready to move forward with their lives. A few more months and they would be celebrating their first anniversary, as well, in a rock-solid marriage. Sydney was back at work, but staying stateside for a while. Maybe permanently, now fighting her battles by slicing through red tape and political channels with a newfound fiery strength that had people listening—and even opening their wallets at fund-raisers. Her new favorite project was the Pete Santuci scholarship fund, her heart touched by Yasmine and Monica's story of the young man who'd given his life to save her.

"Jack?" Monica stroked aside the hair on his brow, damp from hours under his headset.

"Yeah, Mon?"

Her hands urged him back toward her and he forgot about family and thinking and anything but the feel of his wife's busy fingers working his flight suit off his shoulders, his T-shirt up. A cereal O inched into his shorts. Not that he cared since he was otherwise occupied, his mouth on Monica's lips, her neck, biting her zipper tab to expose the most awesome damned breasts ever encased in...

Champagne satin and lace? Ooh-rah. "Happy anniversary to me."

Monica's laugh vibrated under his questing mouth.

"Hmm." He nuzzled hot satin covering even hotter woman. "Where did this come from?"

She arched into the draw of his lips against a peaking nipple. "Shopping trip with my sister in Atlanta.

Yasmine's really getting into this clothes-buying stuff." She gasped her rambling explanation between sighs and needy writhing over the cotton spread. "She should probably buy stock in Victoria's Secret for as much time as she spends scouting out new underwear to entice the Colonel with."

Jack winced, his face finding rest in the soft crook of her neck. "Okay, hon, that's more info than I needed about the Colonel's sex life."

Even as he razzed her, he couldn't stop the surge of pride over how hard she'd worked to establish a bond with her youngest sister over the past months. The effort seemed to be paying off if their shopping trips were anything to judge by. Yasmine and the Colonel even joined them for Atlanta Braves' games.

"Although—" Jack eased her zipper down farther to see if this bra was part of a matching set...and it was "

—if shopping with your sister brings about more of this, maybe I can just plug my ears when it comes to discussing what she bought."

"There will be plenty more shopping in the coming weeks with her wedding next month. God, what a zoo it's going to be."

No doubt about that since Yasmine had insisted there would be no slinking off to hide their nuptials because of age-difference whispers. The Colonel had slipped a solitaire fit for a princess on her finger in record time, but then insisted on a long engagement to give her a chance to adjust to her new life. Ever fair, the Colonel wanted her to be sure.

And Yasmine Halibiz soon-to-be Cullen was damned certain.

Her job as an emergency room trauma nurse kept her busy while her fiance was out in the field. That, and shopping jags for more gifts to spoil Drew's granddaughter rotten.

Monica snuggled closer. "And, oh, my God, you should see the veil she picked to go with her gown." She flopped onto her back. "It's a wonderful mix of her old country and new. Although the Colonel's going to have to fight his way through a lot of lace to get to her for the big kiss."

A question niggled at him. "Do you ever regret that we didn't have a big wedding?"

"Not a chance." She turned on the pillow to look at him. Her husky drawl rang with resolution. "We got the best of everything. A small family service when your brother blessed our vows. A big bash with our friends later. All that and an Elvis impersonator. What more could a girl want?"

He could think of a million things he wanted to do for this woman, out of bed as well as in. Luckily, somehow he'd convinced her to spend the rest of their lives together so he could work his way down that list. "What more could you want? I'm hoping you want me. Now."

"That's a sure bet." Her leg hooked over his hip.

His erection nudged her belly in response. This first time was going to be fast, intense, followed by long-drawn-out. Three cheers for tantric. "Did you bring condoms? Because God knows I wasn't expecting to get laid on TDY."

"Good thing, too, flyboy."

"So? Where the hell did you Ziploc those things up?"

"I brought them, but..."

"But what?"

She stared back up at him, intense, hopeful, her hair a toffee splash against the white pillowcase. "I was hoping I could convince you that it's time to stop using them." When he didn't answer right away, her hands glided over his back, soothing, but the longing in her eyes stayed. A primal wish for children together that stirred an answer within him. "I want us to be parents, Jack, and someday have grandbabies to talk about while we're in those retirement rockers. I got the idea lately that maybe now you're ready to start working on that, too."

Children with Monica. Hell, yes, he wanted a houseful of little Korbas with Monica's eyes. Sure he couldn't stop the twinge of fear in his gut when he thought about how he'd lost Tina. But he realized those fears were mostly illogical and just a part of loving someone so damned much. He was a lucky man to have found such deep love twice in a lifetime.

Deep. The word definitely did not scare him anymore now that he fully appreciated the payoffs. And what a payoff it was, being loved by this woman who honored his past while still demanding he move forward with their future. "Babies, huh?"

Monica skimmed her fingers over the bristle of his late-day beard. "I thought we could start with one for now. More later."

His mind filled with images of Monica with their baby at her breast. "I'm already working on the words for Elvis's 'Teddy Bear.'"

With a Texas-size cheer, she threw her arms around his neck. "I love you."

Three little words he never tired of saying or hearing these days. "Love you, too," he answered against her lips.

She arched up into his kiss as he sank down onto her lush curves. Cereal crunched under their writhing bodies. Fruity scent wafted up, almost managing to override the persistent itch from the mess, an itch that would be increasingly uncomfortable once he got Monica naked. Very soon, hopefully. They'd sure come a long way from his lonely cold shower in Vegas months ago.