Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned in wanton welcome, opening to him. A better man might have been able to resist her, but not Riley. Not now. Not when he was starving for her touch.
“Oh…Riley, I’ve missed you so much,” Hannah moaned as if she were feeling everything he was. And more.
They kissed again, too hungry for each other to attempt restraint. Riley felt Hannah’s need. It shuddered through her, reaching him, touching him, continuing to transmit into his own body with devastating results.
He twisted his mouth away from hers, inhaled sharply and buried his face in her neck, praying to God for the strength to stop before he went too far. Before he’d reached the point of no return. Before the hungry ache of his need consumed what remained of his will.
“I think we should stop.” From where he found the strength to speak would forever remain an enigma to Riley.
“Stop?”
“It’s too soon,” he argued. He stepped away from her, his chest heaving with the effort. Every part of his body protested the action.
“Riley, love, don’t worry. I…talked to the doctor.” She blushed as she said it, and lowered her gaze. “It’s not too soon, I promise you.”
“I’d be more comfortable if we waited.”
“Waited? Really?” She sounded bitterly disappointed.
Hell, she didn’t know the half of it. “Just for a little while,” he promised, but he didn’t know whom he was speaking to—Hannah or himself.
“If you insist.” She bore the disappointment well, Riley decided. In fact she seemed downright cheerful about it, he reflected later that evening.
Humming softly, she gave Sam a bath, dressed him in his sleeper and nursed him once more. The need to be close to her was overpowering. Riley followed her around like a lost lamb, satisfied with tidbits of her attention.
“I think I’ll take a bath,” she announced a little while later, when she was assured Sam was sleeping peacefully.
Riley nodded, deciding to read the evening paper. He could hear the bathwater running and didn’t think much of it until the delicate scent of spring lavender wafted toward him. Lavender and wildflowers.
The fragrance swirled toward him with the seductive appeal of a snake charmer’s music. Hannah and wildflowers. The two were inseparable in his mind. During the endless, frustrating nights aboard the Atlantis, Riley had often dreamed of Hannah traipsing toward him in a field of blooming flowers, a wicker basket handle draped over her arm. It didn’t take much imagination to envision her in the picture she’d painted that hung above the fireplace.
“I’m tired. Let’s go to bed,” Hannah suggested softly. Riley looked up to discover her standing in the doorway to the kitchen, one arm raised above her head, leaning against the frame in a seductive pose. She wore a pale pink gown that clung to her breasts and hips like a second skin. Gone was Sam’s mother and in her stead was Riley’s wife: the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.
He swallowed tightly. She didn’t help his breathing any when she stepped over to the recliner and took his hand. The power to resist her escaped him, and Riley obediently rose out of the chair and followed her into the bedroom.
“I’m…not quite ready for bed yet.” He managed somehow to dredge up a token resistance.
“Yes, you are,” she returned without a pause. “We both are—if those kisses in the kitchen were any indication.”
“Ah…that was a mistake.” Riley had rarely felt more tongue-tied in his life.
Hannah’s sweet face clouded. “A mistake?”
“It’s too soon…. I think we should wait a few more months until you’re completely healed.” That sounded logical. Sensible, even. The type of thing any loving husband would say to his wife after the birth of a child.
“A few months?” Hannah repeated incredulously.
“At least that long.”
The air went still, so still it felt like the distinct calm before the storm. It was. Hannah bolted off the bed as though she’d been burned. Stalking past him with a righteous flair of her hips, she stopped just the other side of the door, then slammed it hard enough to break the living-room windows.
He heard another door slam and then another, flinching with each discordant sound.
Riley closed his eyes, then buried his hands in his hair, uncertain what he should do. He could follow her and try to explain, but he didn’t know what he would say. He wasn’t rejecting her; he was protecting her.
* * *
Hannah was too angry, too hurt to stand by and do nothing. Slamming doors wasn’t helping, and if she didn’t stop soon, she’d wake Sam.
* * *
Riley was impossible. Just when she was convinced he truly loved her, he pulled this stunt. One rejection was bad enough. Twice was unforgivable. She’d leave him; that was what she’d do. But she had nowhere to go. Nowhere she wanted to go, she amended reluctantly.
She didn’t doubt Riley’s love. She’d seen the emotion in his eyes when he’d looked down on Sam for the first time. Surely she hadn’t misread him, and he held some tender spot in his heart for her, as well.
Quite simply, she decided, he just didn’t find her physically attractive. She might as well own up to the fact and learn to live with it. This was the second and last time she’d play the part of a fool. He’d trampled across her heart and her pride for the last time.
Dragging the bucket from the storage closet, she sniffled and reached for the mop. It was either vent this incredible frustration one way or cave into the deep, dry well of self-pity.
She mopped the kitchen floor with a vengeance, rubbing the mop over the already spotless floor as though it were caked with a thick layer of mud.
“Hannah.”
She jerked upright and swung the mop around with her. She held it out in front of her like a knight’s swift sword, intending to defend her honor. “Stay away from me, Riley Murdock.”
“I think we should talk.”
She brandished the mop beneath his nose in a warning gesture. Water drenched the front of his shirt, and a shocked look came into his eyes. “You can forget that. I’m through with…talking.” She hated the way her voice cracked. Riley seemed to find it a sign of weakness and advanced toward her. Once again Hannah swung the mop around, determined to deter him. “You’ve already said everything I care to hear,” she informed him primly. “I got your message loud and clear. First thing in the morning, I’ll move my things into Sam’s bedroom.”
“Why would you do that?” he demanded, his temper rising. He attempted to grab hold of the mop, but she experienced a small sense of triumph by eluding his grasp.
“Why?” she repeated with a harsh laugh. “I refuse to sleep with a man who finds me so unattractive.” Just admitting as much hurt almost more than she could bear. Tears filled her vision until Riley’s image blurred and swam before her.
“It’s not you who’s lacking,” Riley explained. “It’s me.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she countered sharply, struggling to hold back the emotion. “I don’t ‘turn you on.’ Isn’t that what people say nowadays?”
“Don’t turn me on? Are you nuts?”
“Apparently so.” She jabbed the mop into the bucket with enough force to slosh the water over the sides. Without bothering to drain off the excess liquid, she slopped it onto the floor. “You must find my attempts to lure you into bed downright hilarious.” She gave a short laugh, as if she, too, found them amusing.
“Hannah, for the love of heaven, will you listen to me?”
“No…just leave me alone.” She raised the mop threateningly in an effort to persuade him she meant business.
“Put that thing down before you hurt yourself,” he demanded with a growl.
“Make me.” Hannah couldn’t believe she’d said anything so childish. Riley had driven her lower than she’d ever thought she would sink.
Riley shook his head as if he, too, couldn’t believe she’d challenge him
in such a juvenile manner. When she least expected it, his hand shot out and he jerked the mop free of her grasp and hurled it to the floor.
Hannah was too stunned to react. She backed against the kitchen counter, feeling very much like a small, cornered animal, left defenseless and alone. She’d never felt more isolated in her life. Not even when she’d first realized she was pregnant with Riley’s child.
“I’m not good enough for you,” he admitted in an emotion-riddled breath. “Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t,” she cried.
“Loving you isn’t right.”
Hannah glared at him with all the frustration pent up in her heart and then hurled the wet dishrag at him, hitting him in the shoulder. The damp cloth stuck there as if glued into place.
“It’s a fine time to tell me that!” she shouted. “What am I supposed to tell Sam? That he was a terrible mistake and you rue the day you ever met his mother?”
“Of course not. Hannah, please, try to understand. By everything that’s right, you should be married to Jerry Sanders.”
“Is that a fact? What would you like me to do about it? Tell God He made a mistake so He can send Jerry back for a wedding?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Me?” she countered with a short hysterical laugh. “You’re so eager to be rid of me, you’re willing to pawn me off on a dead man.”
Riley closed his eyes. “I’ve never known you to be so unreasonable. Think about it for a minute, would you?”
“Think about what? That you don’t want me? How will that help matters any? Answer me one thing,” she demanded between tears of rage and tears of pain. “Do you regret being married to me?”
An eternity passed before he answered. When he did, she had to strain to hear him. “Yes, but not for the reasons you think.”
It would have pained her less had he stabbed her through with a knife. The fight drained out of her, and she dropped her hands lifelessly to her sides. All the weeks and months she’d loved him, cherished each precious moment they were together, treasured the tenderness and the caring. All along, it had been a lie. “I see.”
“I’m a bastard!” Riley shouted. “I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. If I’d looked at a girl like you when I was in high school, I would have been arrested. The fact we’re married is a crime. You could have had any man you wanted, and frankly, sweetheart, you could do a hell of a lot better than me.” He paused and seemed to wait for his words to sink in. “There are others out there like Jerry. Good, honest men. You should be married to one of them. Not me.”
“You seem to be forgetting one minor detail,” she said in a voice that was little more than a whisper. “I’m already married to you.”
The tortured look Riley wore suggested he didn’t need to be reminded. “If I didn’t love you so damn much, I would have released you from our vows.”
“You want to prove your love for me by abandoning me?” The very idea was too ludicrous to consider.
“Our marriage can’t be annulled any longer,” he admitted with a pained look. “I ruined any chance of that the night we made love.”
“Ruined it…You mean you were honestly considering doing such a thing?” Hannah was too furious to think. She glanced around, ready to hurl the first available object she could find directly at her husband. His thinking was so twisted. He left her defenseless and more outraged than she could ever remember being in her life.
Moving quickly, Riley stepped forward and caught her in his arms. The tears he saw in her eyes appeared to distress him, and frowning, he brushed them aside. Closing her eyes, Hannah jerked her face away. She struggled, but Riley wouldn’t release her and she soon gave up the effort.
“I love you so damn much,” he confessed.
Hannah was about to argue with him when he pulled her mouth to his and kissed her, not bothering to hide the desperation and the pain of his confession.
For the first time, Hannah was able to put aside the rejection of the pain and understand everything Riley had been saying to her. He did love her—more than she dared credit, more than she dared to dream, enough to do what he felt was right and good where she and Sam were concerned.
Her hands found his face, and she slanted her mouth over his, opening to him. Again and again Riley kissed her, and she kissed him until she felt feverish with need.
“Oh, God, Hannah,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “You make me crazy.”
“I know,” she murmured, raining nibbled kisses along the underside of his jaw. “I’ve been listening to crazy talk from you for the last several minutes, and I refuse to hear any more.”
“Hannah, for the love of God…”
She silenced him the most effective way she knew how. “My turn,” she said, holding him against her, wondering if any man could ever make her want him as much as she did him.
She led him into the living room and lowered him into the recliner. Once he was seated, she settled on his lap, to be sure she could intercept his arguments before they had time to form.
“You’re right. Jerry Sanders was a special man. I loved him—he’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But that in no way discounts my love for you.”
Riley’s eyes widened, and it looked as though he intended to argue with her, but she pressed her mouth on his, teased apart his lips with her tongue and then made a lightning-quick strike before abruptly ending the kiss. Riley was left panting and helpless, just the way Hannah meant to keep him until he listened to reason.
“You’re my husband. The love I feel for you and Sam is so powerful it sometimes overwhelms me. I never knew a person could hold so much love inside. It overflows sometimes, and all I can do is sit and weep and thank God for sending you into my life.”
“Hannah—”
“Let me finish,” she interrupted, pressing her finger to his lips. “The night…we met, Reverend Parker at the Mission House and I had a talk. I remember it as clearly as if it were this afternoon. He reminded me that God works in mysterious ways. I didn’t believe him at the time—I was hurting too much. Now I understand. God took Jerry from me and then He sent you and Sam into my life. If you want to question God’s wisdom that’s certainly your right, but I don’t. There’s a balance to nature. Out of my grief were born the greatest joys of my life—you and Samuel.”
“But—”
“I’m not done yet,” she chastised gently. “You can go ahead and try to get rid of me if that’s what you really want, but I’m telling you right now, it won’t work. I plan on sticking around for a good long time. Ninety years or more.”
Riley went quiet and still. He closed his eyes, blocking her out. He seemed to be battling within himself, fighting her love and everything she was offering him. She knew she’d won when he opened his eyes and studied her, his eyes intensely blue. “You’re sure about this?”
“Very sure. Do you think I might be able to convince you to tag along for the ride?”
The slightest hint of a smile touched Riley’s bottomless eyes. “Are you going to attempt to unman me with any more mops? Or hurl more cold dishrags at me?”
“That depends on whether you refuse to make love to me again,” she informed him with a prim lift to her voice.
“I don’t think that’s going to be much of a problem in the future.”
Hannah grinned and relaxed. “I’m glad to hear it.”
“In fact, I’m thinking we should follow your earlier suggestion and make up for lost time.” His hands were at her waist, stroking her hips in a seductive, caressing motion.
“There’s lots of time to make up for,” she reminded him, linking her arms around his neck.
“It could take all night,” he told her, looking so eager it was all Hannah could do not to laugh outright. In one swift motion he rose to his feet, scooping Hannah into his arms as he did so. He carried her through the house toward their bedroom.
“All night?”
“Perhaps d
ays,” he said, his eyes shining into hers.
“Days?”
“As long as a month.”
Hannah sighed and pressed her mouth against his neck, loving the salty, manly taste of him. “A month?”
“Possibly years.”
“Years?” she echoed incredulously.
“What was it you suggested? Ninety years?”
“At the very least,” she whispered in reply. “Ninety years and at least three children.”
“Three!” Apparently her husband hadn’t learned his lesson. He fully intended to argue with her, but Hannah knew the most effective way of all to end contention between them.
* * * * *
Navy Husband
New York Times Bestselling Author
Debbie Macomber
Chapter One
“This is a joke—right?” Shana Berrie said uncertainly as she talked to her older sister, Ali, on the phone. Ali was the sensible one in the family. She—unlike Shana—wouldn’t have dreamed of packing up her entire life, buying a pizza and ice-cream parlor and starting over in a new city. Oh, no, only someone completely and utterly in need of a change—correction, a drastic change—would do something like that.
“I’m sorry, Shana, but you did agree to this parenting plan.”
Her sister was a Navy nurse stationed in San Diego, and several years ago, when she’d asked Shana to look after her niece if necessary, Shana had immediately said yes. It had seemed an unlikely prospect at the time, but that was before her sister became a widow.
“I did, didn’t I?” she muttered lamely as she stepped around a cardboard box. Her rental house was cluttered with the makings of her new life and the remnants of her old.
“It isn’t like I have any choice in the matter,” Ali pointed out.
“I know.” Pushing her thick, chestnut-colored hair away from her forehead, Shana leaned against the kitchen wall and slowly expelled her breath, hoping that would calm her pounding heart. “I said yes back then because you asked me to, but I don’t know anything about kids.”