Under Siege (Wingmen Warriors 3)

Ducking and weaving, Shelby sprinted across the golf course straight against John's chest. "Sorry I'm late."

He stumbled backward, but his hold stayed tight around her. "I wasn't sure you were gonna make it tonight."

"Me neither."

He ran his hands up her arms. "Hey, you shoulda brought a jacket."

"I didn't want to wait." Or risk going back into the hall where her father could see her pierced eyebrow. "It's not that cold."

November in Charleston never was, not like the five other places she'd lived. She'd be moving to city number seven next summer, thanks to her dad's job and some to-die-for assignment in Alabama.

No choices.

The stitch came back.

John pulled away, whipping off his sweatshirt. "Here. Wear mine anyway."

He slipped it over her head. All that concern and cotton slid right over her too until the tightness in her chest lessened.

Shelby tucked back into his arms and rubbed her cheek against his T-shirt. She wanted to stand like this forever. No demands. No rigatoni or goodbyes.

She tipped her face up and pulled John's head down to hers and could have sworn she tasted chocolate.

* * *

Julia backed out of Ivy's room, blowing a kiss as she closed the door. Stalling in the hall, she traced the first in a cluster of framed baby pictures of the girls lining the walls, followed by school pictures, all marching time along to the present.  She eyed Shelby's door, fish tank gurgling in the silence, and considered whether or not to knock. Probably best to leave well-enough alone for now. No need to push her luck after the chocolate incident.

Which she would have to tell Zach about along with the newly pierced eyebrow. But not tonight. Let him get a good night's sleep first.

In that big, warm bed of his.

Julia slumped against the wall. Definitely better to wait until tomorrow to discuss it with him.

Talk to him tomorrow?

What had happened to keeping Zach's hot body and aviator wings out of her life? Was she making excuses to see him again? Maybe. But she couldn't face more time with Zach tonight without caving and doing something impulsive.

Not to mention stupid.

Julia pushed away from the wall and walked toward the kitchen. The cool parquet floors against her bare feet helped temper a heat that had begun flaming through her the minute Zach started wolfing down all that fudge.

She stepped into the kitchen—and stopped short.

Zach knelt beside the baby car seat, grinning down at Patrick. A floor of ice wouldn't be cold enough to chill the warm tide of emotions flooding through her. That enticing half smile kicked up one side of Zach's face as he played piggies with baby toes, such an incongruous image.

Erase the car seat and Zach personified the warrior spirit, protector of his country whatever the cost. A five-o'clock shadow peppered the harsh angles of his jaw. Miles of lean muscle telegraphed strength encased in a forest-green flight suit and black leather combat boots. He even had a survival knife tucked in one of those boots.

More than a little fearsome.

Completely awesome.

And playing "This Little Piggy" on a six-week-old's toes with a gentleness totally at odds with all that restrained power. She definitely needed to pack her baby and her bags, and make tracks back to her house. "Zach?'

Zach looked from the baby up to the boy's mother standing silhouetted in the open doorway. Julia's feet shuffled a restless dance. No doubt she was ready to go, and who knew when he and the girls would see her again?

He braced a hand on his knee and stood. "Thank you for coming over when I called yesterday. I know this wasn't easy for you. I wouldn't have asked if there had been any other way."

"I know that. And you're welcome. I owe you—"