Evie turned her head away, sucking back the
tears pressing behind her eyelids. “So Misty Lee told me you were
moving. Is that true, or was it simply a story?”
He glanced at her. “No, we moved. To D.C. And
then we went on an op.”
“So I guess you’re home for a visit then. It
was nice of you to come see me.”
His look turned hot, possessive. Heat flared
in her belly at that look. It said
you’re mine
and
I want
you
.
“I’m not here for a visit. I’m here for
you.”
The air grew thick in her lungs. It took her
a second to close her mouth. She swallowed and searched for her
composure. “For me?”
He smiled, but it seemed forced, as if he was
trying too hard to make it look natural. “Ever been to D.C.?”
“Once. Why?”
“Fuck.” He shook his head. And then he was
down on one knee in front of her, grasping her hands and forcing
her to look at him. “Come to D.C. with me, Evie. Marry me or shack
up with me, I don’t care which right now just so long as you come
with me.”
She was speechless. Of all the directions
she’d thought this conversation was going…
“Evie?” His expression was troubled. He
looked… uncertain.
Matt Girard, uncertain? The most confident,
self-assured man she’d ever known? She latched onto something he’d
said, searching for a firm footing in this uncertain sea he’d let
swallow her whole. “You’re asking me to marry you?”
A shaky breath rattled from his chest. “Yes.
When you’re ready.”
Her head was spinning. “Isn’t it a little
premature? We haven’t even lived together yet. For all I know, you
hate the Food Network. For all you know, I’m a slob.”
“I don’t hate the Food Network, and I don’t
care if you’re a slob.”
Her throat was tight. “We’re good together in
bed, but…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know if you love
me.”
“Jesus, Evie. Of course I love you. Would I
be down here with my heart in my hands if I didn’t love you?”
She was trembling deep inside. “You say that
like I was supposed to know. You never said a word. That whole
night together, and you never said a word.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “I didn’t think
it was fair to tell you before I left. I didn’t think it was fair
to ask you to be a part of my life when I didn’t know what was
going to happen to me. But I didn’t know what lonely really meant
until I left that morning. I’ve never been lonelier than when I
wasn’t with you.”
Evie figured she must look like a fish out of
water. Gaping, gaping.
“But why didn’t you call me at least? Tell me
what was happening? I missed you so much. I practically begged
Misty Lee for information—”
He squeezed her hands. “I couldn’t. Not until
I knew what the consequences were going to be.”
Evie pushed her hair back over her shoulder.
“I think I’m mad at you, Matt Girard. For making a decision that
involved me without asking me what I thought.”
“I know. I was wrong.”
“And now here you are again, upending my
world—” She drew in a deep breath, willed herself to be calm. “You
said before that you couldn’t ask a woman to share that kind of
life. What’s changed?”
He closed his eyes on a deep breath. When he
opened them again, they were dazzlingly bright. “Me. I’ve changed.
The job means a lot to me, but it’s not everything. You’re
everything. Love is worth the risk.”
She couldn’t look at him anymore so she
stared at their clasped hands. Yes, she’d been angry with him. But
she’d missed him more, loved him more. Wanted him.
“I’ve had to help Mama get back on her feet.”
Her voice was hoarse with emotion. “And I’ve needed to be here for
Sarah. She’s really opened up to me. We’re sisters now, not
strangers. I’ve made my peace with Rochambeau.”
“I’m glad for that. But I’m gonna be selfish
and ask you to leave again. What we’re doing in D.C. is pretty
important. I’m not going to be in the field as much
anymore—sometimes, but not often—so you don’t have to be afraid for
me. I’m directing operations from the new facility. I thought you’d
like that.”
“It’s less dangerous?”
“Yes, though not always.”
“I’ve been helping Charlie, and then there’s
my career…”
She was making excuses now, saying whatever
came into her head because she still couldn’t quite believe this
was real.
“If you can’t leave Rochambeau, I’m going
back and offering my resignation again. And I’ll keep offering
until they take it.”
The force of his conviction stunned her.
“You’d do that for me?”
There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his
eyes. “I would.”
“But you don’t want to work for Girard
Oil.”
“I’ll dig ditches for a living if it makes
you happy. I’ll learn how to cook. We can open a restaurant
together.”
Evie laughed as an image of big, badass Matt
chopping an onion appeared in her mind. She shook her head. Was
that hope blossoming in her soul? Did she dare believe?
But what if this was an illusion? A mirage?
Had she been breathing too many permanent solution fumes in the
beauty shop?
“Evie, look at me.”
She did. And what she saw made her breath
catch. Love, shining through. For her.
He gave her that million-watt smile. “How
about it? Think I can learn to cook?”
She regarded him seriously. “No, I don’t
think you’d make a good chef. Better stick to being the muscle,
babe.”
He squeezed her hands. “Does this mean you’ll
consider moving to D.C.?”
Her heart was going to burst. He was offering
her something that frightened her, but after everything they’d been
through together, after the way he’d risked himself for her—and the
way she’d risked herself for him, don’t forget—how could she say no
now?
“I think I better. In order to prevent
culinary atrocities, you understand.”
His head dropped for a moment, his eyes
closing briefly. When he looked at her again, his smile lit up her
world. “I’ll move heaven and earth to make you happy, Evie. I want
you there when I wake up every morning and there when I go to sleep
at night. I love you, even if you don’t do a damn thing I tell you
to do.”
Happiness magnified inside her and spread
outward in warm waves of sunshine. “Oh, I imagine I can do
some
things.”
“Why don’t we get started on that now?” He
stood and pulled her up with him. “Because I can think of quite a
few
things
I’d like you to do. To me. With me.”
Evie caught a glimpse of a dozen faces
pressed to the plate-glass window of her mother’s shop as Matt
wrapped her in his arms and kissed her senseless. Dimly, past the
tattoo beat of her heart and the happiness swirling in her head,
she heard a chorus of cheers.
Rochambeau loved its gossip, and there was
nothing that lit the little town on fire quite like the news that
the boy once voted most likely to succeed was going to marry the
girl from the wrong side of town. The citizens were tickled pink
because everyone knew that’s exactly how it was supposed to be…
even if it
had
taken several years for the boy and girl to
figure it out.
They might not get married right away—in
fact, they didn’t—but one day, they’d be back to stand in the
gardens at Reynier’s Retreat and pledge their undying love. It had
been fated since the moment two children met on the ancient steps
of the old mansion.
THE END
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A BOOK IS NEVER WRITTEN in a vacuum, and this
one most certainly wasn’t. This is one of the hardest books I have
ever written, and it’s also the one I refused to give up on. From
the first glimmer of an idea way back in 2005 until now, this story
has undergone many revisions and lots of hair pulling in order to
reach the reader. I have so many people to thank.
My husband Mike, an Air Force veteran who was
always there with military knowledge and advice, was (and is)
invaluable to me. I grew up with the military, married into it, and
have lived that life for a long time. Still, mistakes are
inevitable, so if they’re there, it’s my fault. There are some
things I chose to do for story reasons, and I’m sure the military
spouses and vets will find them and know they aren’t quite correct.
I beg you to forgive me.
My Aloha Chapter peeps in Hawaii, who knew me
back when I first started this book, and who encouraged me to keep
going when the going got tough. My Heart of Dixie peeps in Alabama,
who just simply rock in so many ways and who inspired me from the
very beginning.
Kira Sinclair, Andrea Laurence, and Marilyn
Puett read early drafts of this story and gave me so much
encouragement. Jean Hovey, aka Alicia Hunter Pace, read the last
draft and told me exactly what I needed to hear.
Then there are the Pixie Chicks, the 2008
Golden Heart finalists, who made the RWA conference in San
Francisco so memorable. This was the book that finaled that year,
and I am so honored to be a part of such a talented group of women.
It took a few years, but this story is finally ready for the light
of day!
I couldn’t have done this without the advice
and help of the Indie Pixies, who gave me more encouragement than
they know. I adore you all, but I have to give special thanks to
Courtney Milan. Courtney has always been ready to answer questions
for me, and to give me recommendations when I needed them.
I also have to thank Robin Harders, editor
extraordinaire, who took this project on and probably had no idea
what she’d gotten herself into. I lovingly referred to this story
as Frankenbook—and it was, because I’d pulled it apart and stitched
it together so many times. But Robin read it anyway and told me
exactly what it was missing. And Anne and Sara at Victory Editing
helped with that last push toward perfection (elusive, but we
tried!).
If you loved the cover, then it wouldn’t
exist without the major talents of Frauke Spanuth, owner and
creative director of Croco Designs. I lucked into Frauke’s orbit
back in 2008 when I needed a professional website and I haven’t
looked back. She always, always comes through.
Ultimately, however, I have to thank my
readers. You’ve given me one heck of a ride with Harlequin, and now
I hope you’ll love my HOT military guys as much as I do. They
aren’t billionaires, but they are definitely alpha males. I’ve
wanted to share this story for so long, and I’m thrilled I finally
can.
It took an army to get it to you, and I hope
you will adore it as much as I do. Thank you so much, and happy
reading!
More HOT guys, of course! Keep an eye out for
Hot Mess
, a novella in the Hostile Operations Team world
that’s coming SOON!