He blinked at the clock. 4:59.
Without really moving, he pressed his lips against the cornsilk of her hair, the insane softness of it almost making him shudder.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Sammi with her hair and her wit, with her smartass quips that made him laugh and her flat-out sexy mouth that made him come like a freight train without brakes. He’d never known a woman could be so compatible, so comfortable, so… perfect.
Would she wait for him? Of course, he knew the answer—knew it like he knew his name. But… what if he never came home?
The very real possibility weighed on his heart, an anvil of worry. He imagined her counting days on the calendar, giving up dates with perfectly nice guys in order to wait for his infrequent calls, having even less of a life than her career as an advertising exec workaholic afforded her now.
Could he do that to her? Jesus, could he not?
He opened his eyes. 5:00.
Time to start the trip that began in an hour and ended God knew when… however many hours it would take to get from here to Benning to Bragg to Frankfurt to Kuwait to…
He hadn’t even told her where he was going. And he wouldn’t. Not until he got back.
And he would get back, he decided, lurching backward to break the seal that held them with the same force and speed he’d rip a bandage off a wound. She startled at the separation, turning with a sigh.
“Is it time?” she asked, sleepy-voiced.
“Shhh.” He kissed her cheek softly. “Go back to sleep. I’m going to take a shower.”
Like he weighed a thousand tons, he dragged his body from the bed, heading to the bathroom without even turning on the light. He flipped on the shower water and stepped in while it was still ice cold, the punishing spray needling his skin.
Awake, alert, and clean in under a minute, he twisted the knobs just as the water was starting to warm up. And he froze at the sound of a soft sob from the bed.
He took a step closer, but didn’t say anything, his night vision strong enough to see her curled in the bed, her arms around the pillow, her face buried to muffle sound, shoulders shaking as she wept.
This. Damn it, this. Was. Not. Supposed. To. Happen.
“I love you, Zach.” The words were mumbled, sobbed into the down pillow and ragged with tears. She lifted her head with a gasp, suddenly realizing he was in the room. “Zach?”
“Yeah?”
For a second, silence, then, “Did you hear me?”
He just stood there, dripping, cold, helpless to stop what he never should have started. The least he could do was… not make it worse. Not make promises that some suicide bomber could make damn sure he didn’t keep. The least he could do was… lie.
“No. Did you say something?”
She fell back on the pillow. “No.”
He dressed quickly, in silence, in uniform. His bag was already packed and by the door. All that was left was goodbye.
He sat in the only chair, facing the bed to stick his feet in the boots that would, in a few days, march through dust and climb onto Humvees and run from exploding devices.
As he tied the laces, he heard the sheets rustle. She was sitting up, the covers wrapped around her, hair everywhere, legs peeking out from the bottom of the sheet, the first fingers of dawn breaking through the blinds to highlight her beauty.
He took a minute to snap a mental picture. That one would pass some miserable nights in Iraq.
“Zach?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
He just stared at her, knowing what he should say… he should tell her how he felt.
But to tell her that was a contract… and he knew Sam. She’d abide by it. And that would only make her lonely and miserable. He had no right.
“I have to go now,” he said quietly, standing quickly to avoid looking at her, not wanting to see the words hit her heart.
Leaning over her, he kissed the top of her head. She instantly drew back, offering her face, reaching up to his neck and demanding he pull her up. He did, wrapping his arms around her, the rough material of his uniform scratching her delicate skin, but he didn’t care.
He squeezed her into him, aching for more than he could ever have, holding her so tightly he felt her head collide with his shoulder. “Sammi. This was not supposed to happen,” he whispered.
She leaned back, her eyes wet with tears. “You called it on the first night.”
“I did?”
“You said it was inevitable.”
“I meant…”
“Shhh.” This time, she put her finger on his mouth to quiet the argument. “I know. But it was inevitable. I love you.”
He kissed her cheek, her nose, her eyes, and finally her mouth. What was inevitable was the enemy, out there just waiting to blast him into oblivion or fire a bullet into his head.
“Will you… call?” she finally asked.
“When I can.” Which would be rarely.
“Email?”
“It’s tough over there, with the job I’ll be doing.”
She let out a soft laugh, half frustration. “Postcard?”
He just smiled, the lump in his throat viciously swollen. “As soon as I get my hands on one.” Son of a bitch, his voice almost cracked. He hugged her again, his mouth on her forehead. “Sammi…”
“Yes?”
“I…I…”
He could feel her whole body tighten with anticipation. Say it, Zach. Say it. “I had the best three weeks of my life.”
She sank a little in his arms. “Yeah. It was fun.”
He kissed her once more: chaste, simple, sweet.
“Goodbye, Zaccaria.”
“Bye.” The lump broke in his throat. He backed away, nodded once, and headed out the door, mentally making the promises he couldn’t make verbally.
When I get back, Sammi. When he got back, he’d change this conversation and make everything right. He’d say the words she wanted to hear, when he got back.
If he got back.
Don’t Miss
EDGE OF SIGHT
The first book in The Guardian Angelino Series…when this love story finally continues three years later…
Available from Grand Central/Forever Publishing
At your bookstore or these online retailers:
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Epilogue
About the author
Roxanne St. Claire, Space in His Heart
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