Embrace the Night

EMBRACE THE NIGHT

A Military Romance Novella from

NY Times and USA Today Bestseller

Caridad Pineiro

For the first time in nearly two years he felt normal again . . .

Army brat Zack Taylor had spent his early life going from one place to the next, losing his home and friends with every move until he decided it was just easier to be alone.  Despite that, Zack has no hesitation in following in his father’s footsteps and going the ROTC route for college.  He has no hesitation in going back for his wounded team members after they are attacked during a mission. His dedication to his men nearly cost him his life when a nearby explosion wounds him and shears off part of his leg.  For the last two years, Zack has been rebuilding his life and finding out that being a loner is no fun.  Especially not when he’s caught the eye of sexy Samantha Whittaker whose gaze is filled with passion, laughter, and the shadows of pain.

She is fighting hard to ignore the obvious invitation in his determined gaze . . .

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Whittaker is just not interested in getting involved.  At least not until she can deal with the wounds left behind by her stint as a prisoner of war.  Physically and mentally abused, it has taken her years to find some stability and independence in her life.  Giving in to the much younger and enticing Army vet will challenge that hard won freedom. But Zack’s persistence and caring are wearing her down until she considers that maybe it’s time to embrace all that he can offer, even if it’s only for one night of passion.

Chapter 1

Zack Taylor sped across the waves, fighting for balance atop the surfboard. Awkward at first, but gaining stability as he adjusted his legs into a wider stance and bent his knees.

He rode the wave as far as he could and then kicked out, sending the board flying in one direction while he sank into the cool water. As he rose to the surface, the familiar pull of the leash registered on his leg and he swam toward the board so he could climb back on.

Grabbing the rails of the board, he slid across the surface, but thumped one edge with his prosthetic leg as he struggled to get on.  The surfboard swayed side-to-side with the sudden imbalance before he steadied it.

A little shaky, but it felt awesome to finally be able to go surfing again.

It almost felt like flying
, he thought as he paddled out to wait for another set of waves.

Surfing was one of the few things he’d missed when his family had moved from place to place during his dad’s Army service.  He had picked up the sport when his dad had been stationed close to the Delaware beaches and he’d kept surfing any time that their latest deployment had been near the ocean.

Even during his tours of duty, he would find a way to surf if a beach was nearby. There was something about the ocean and its vastness with which he identified.  Sitting there, in that great aloneness, waiting for just the right wave, suited him.

As an Army brat, he’d been alone for most of his life.  Except for family, of course.

It had just been too difficult to make friends and then lose them every time his dad transferred to a different base.

Surfing had gifted him with something else:  Patience.

He’d learned it was far better to bide his time to earn a perfect ride then hurry up and wipe out in a bad wave.

When he reached the spot where a few other surfers waited for the next set, he sat up and straddled the board, his legs dangling over the edge.  Well, his one leg and three quarters of his left with the durable prosthetic. He floated there, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the wash of the water all around him.

Enjoying life and appreciating just how fragile it could be.

It had taken him a long time to get to this point.  To get past the pain and anger at his loss and be thankful that it hadn’t been worse.  To be grateful for the path on which he’d been set that had brought him here.

He gazed back toward the shore and to the growing crowd of people on the beach.  He could make out his boss and friend Mark Smith and his wife Bridget as Mark hauled the volleyball equipment down to the sand.  Following them like baby ducks chasing after their mother were another group of his friends.  His work buddy and former Navy Seal Rafe Castillo and his wife Elena. Marine Lieutenant Trevor Mason and Maggie Sullivan, Bridget’s younger sister, visiting again from New York City.

His friends.

It was weird to say that after the many years that he hadn’t had any.

And he knew that chances were that Samantha would be joining them soon.

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Whittaker.

She’d snared his attention the very first time he’d joined Mark and his wife at one of these gatherings and later again at the other parties held by the many veterans who lived along this stretch of the Jersey Shore.

He’d be lying if he said that it had been anything other than a rockin’ hot bod and stunning face that had made him take notice the first time.  But it hadn’t taken him long to see past her beauty to the strong and smart woman inside.  One who laughed often, but whose gaze was shadowed by pain.

He wondered a lot about what had put the darkness there and what would drive it away.

He also wondered if he’d misread something else in that gaze:  Desire.

He thought he’d seen it after the first couple of times that they’d talked.  A hesitant half glance and that look that said she maybe wanted more, but was afraid to say so.

Which puzzled him considering the kind of woman she was.

Independent.  Determined.  Capable.

Ex-Navy, she was now in the Coast Guard and used to dealing with men on all levels.

He’d thought she’d be a little more direct about what she wanted.

But then again, maybe he could be a little more direct as well.

He wanted to get to know her better.  Emotionally.  Physically.

The latter thought made his gut twist painfully.

He glanced down at lefty and wondered what she would think when she realized.  How she would handle the revelation.  Would she not care or shy away?

Fuck that
, he thought.

Today was going to be a day for firsts.

His first time surfing in two years.

His first time asking a woman out since he’d been wounded.

Maybe even another first if they hit it off.

A man could dream after all
, he thought and as the ocean surged beneath him, he flattened onto the board and paddled into the wave.

As he caught it just right, he popped to his feet and flew toward shore, smiling all the way.

Chapter 2

Samantha Whittaker had never seen Zack surfing before.  Some of the people at their beach parties would arrive early and paddle out if the waves were good, but not Zack normally.

It occurred to her that he was obviously not a beginner, but he seemed a little uncomfortable, as if it had been a long time since he’d been on a board.

She laid out her blanket, sat, and leaned back on her arms, trying to appear cool as she took in the sight of him out in the water.  At six years his senior, she felt like a cougar admiring his lean muscled body, but then again, she hadn’t made a move on him and he hadn’t made any moves either.

But she wanted to, hell yeah, she wanted to despite the age difference and despite the fact that she wasn’t sure if she was ready for any kind of relationship now or ever.

She had a lot of baggage.

It would take a strong man to shoulder that kind of burden.

Zack was physically strong.  She suspected he was emotionally tough as well.  The war had damaged him as it had so many others, but in the six months since he’d started working for Mark and hanging out with them, she’d discovered a man who seemed at ease with himself and with others.

A man who carried the scars of war on his body and yet could smile with unabashed joy, as he was doing now as he rode in a wave, his big body more graceful than it had been just moments earlier.  Almost poetic as he cut back and forth on the crest of the wave until he kicked out of the wave and eased into the water.

After he retrieved his board, he paddled a few feet toward the beach, got to his feet, and picked up his surfboard.  With powerful strides he cleared the wash near the shore, but stumbled slightly on the softer sand before regaining his balance.

His grin broadened boyishly as he saw her and he sauntered to the foot of her blanket, every inch of him radiating male confidence.

“Hey, Samantha,” he said and scrubbed his hand across the glistening drops of water sticking to his shaggy caramel brown hair. The summer sun had lovingly kissed the longish locks with golden highlights.

“Hey, yourself, Zack.  You looked good out there,” she said and motioned to the waves.

He glanced back toward the ocean and nodded. That enticing boyish grin deepened, displaying a dimple in his right cheek.  “Thanks.  It’s been a while since I surfed.”

Which confirmed her first impression of him out on the waves.  He was no beginner.

“Why?” she asked.

His grin deflated a bit and the earlier joyful gleam in his eyes hardened the light blue to icy shards.

“Lots of reasons,” he said, but she could tell he wasn’t really prepared to discuss them.

She understood.  He had his secrets much like she had hers.

“Are you staying for the games?” she asked, although he usually did even though she had never seen him participate.

He dipped his head to confirm it and gestured toward the boardwalk. “Yeah, I am.  I just need to get changed and put the board away.  I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He didn’t wait for her reply to hurry away, his strong body graceful as he trudged through the sand and up to an old Volkswagen van parked on the street.  He popped open the back, slipped in his surfboard, and climbed in after it.

She closed her eyes and pictured him stripping out of the wetsuit, baring all those lean muscles for her to see.  Drawing the suit down past his abs and . . . .

She sucked in a breath and stopped right there as her nipples tightened against her bikini top and damp heat built between her legs.

It had obviously been way too long since she’d done anything about satisfying her physical needs. She didn’t want to be vulnerable because of that and drove away the all too pleasant fantasies of Zack in the buff.

She jumped to her feet, brushed the sand off her hands, and walked over to where Mark, her friend and former Navy colleague, was setting up the volleyball court.

Mark who knew some of her secrets and kept them where they belonged.

In the past.

Chapter 3

Zack gritted his teeth and fought back the massive hard on pushing against the tight wetsuit fabric.

Damn, but she was beautiful and smart.  She’d known not to push him when he’d answered about the surfing. He understood that she was asking him not to press about her secrets.

He opened the back of the old Volkswagen van and slid the board onto the padding he kept there.  He hopped onto the running board his dad had helped him put in place so it was easier for him to climb inside.  Now that his dad was retired and had settled nearby with his mom, they’d been restoring the old classic van together during Zack’s free time.

After he closed the back doors, he sat and leaned against the side, legs stretched out before him.  His erection even more obvious and insistent, but he didn’t want to be a sad old man, whacking off in the back of his van like some perv.

He grabbed the zipper pull and yanked hard to open the wetsuit.  Peeling the neoprene off his shoulders and down his arms, he snagged a dry towel from the pile next to the clothes he’d brought to wear.  He toweled down and after, finished dragging the wetsuit off his legs.

He sat back again and stared hard at his body, wondering as he had earlier, what Samantha would think.

A line of stitching like railroad tracks ran up from near the bottom of his hip to just below his rib cage.  A network of less noticeable lines and scars traveled down from the middle of his chest to intersect with those tracks.  All were the results of the damage created from the shrapnel and pieces of mortar that had claimed the lower part of his left leg.

The leg now sporting the durable prosthetic he used for surfing and the beach.  The more sophisticated one he used for everyday was sitting – or should he say standing – at home, recharging for his weekday use.  The electronics in that prosthetic couldn’t withstand the water and sand.

She’d seen the scars on his upper body before and hadn’t flinched.

He’d expect that from a fellow warrior, especially one who had wounds of her own.  Internal ones that he was certain were behind the darkness in her gaze.

Maybe she wouldn’t flinch when he showed her his leg, but he wasn’t sure now was the time for such a big reveal.

Patience
, he reminded himself even though that seemed in limited supply whenever he was around Samantha.