Under Siege (Wingmen Warriors 3)

Before he could answer, she pressed her fingers to his lips. "But I will regret it if we weaken again without thinking it through first. We owe it to ourselves and the children to be honest with each other and hold steady to our plan. We let our hormones mess with our minds tonight. We lost our focus and that can't happen anymore."

He knew her too well to miss the ache in her eyes. Her arm cradled Patrick so protectively, but her fingers against Zach's face trembled. She was torn, and he could play on that now.

Except he would lose her trust. He needed to think beyond the moment.

Her hand fell away. He tracked her as she put Patrick in his crib. Time for a temporary retreat to rearm for the next advance.

Julia was dead wrong about losing focus on the kids.

Hell, he was a master at multitasking. He'd made a successful career of juggling fifty agendas at once.

They didn't need some fairy-tale version of love to build a relationship. Pam had vowed to heaven and back that she'd loved him even as she'd walked out the door. No way did he need any more of that in his life.

Julia's "welcome home" image had been a near replica of what he'd planned for himself all those years ago back in his father's one-bedroom trailer. He'd wanted a life and family different from the one he'd grown up with. Now that he finally had it, he wouldn't let it fall apart.

He hadn't risen through the Air Force ranks by admitting defeat at the first sign of opposition. Against what should have been insurmountable odds, he'd convinced Julia to marry him.

Now, he just had to convince her to stay.

* * *

"You don't have to stay, Shel." Julia folded her legs under her on the blue exercise mat.  Shelby sat across from her, holding Patrick's hand while he balanced on his tummy on top of an over large ball. Maternal warmth filled Julia's heart as her son squealed in delight over his favorite of all physical therapy games.

"The weather sucks too bad for me to walk back to the house." Rain pounded the roof, slicking the lone window in the small room in back of the base recreation center. "I'll get soaked."

"I can give you a quick ride home before the break's over." Julia edged out of the way of another child lying over a ball, one who didn't seem quite so taken with the exercise.

"I want to be here when they talk about your blueprints for the new playhouse." Her eyes pleaded for forgiveness. If only she would look at her father that way.

"Okay, then." The kid really was trying, and Julia didn't want to be late for the presentation. "Thanks for realizing how important this is to me." In time for summer, she would finish her model playhouse, complete with modifications for the special needs of the children in their group.

Now they just needed a space large enough to hold it.

Eleven children and their parents filled every inch of floor in the overcrowded room, the only place available for the newly founded group led by Rena Price, a civilian counselor from Family Advocacy at the base clinic.

This meeting differed from the Down syndrome support group she attended bimonthly downtown. Rena had designed it as a catchall meeting for any base family with a special needs child. Along with laughter, tears and support, they shared information to alleviate the specific stresses families constantly on the move faced—plugging in with new doctors and facilities, not to mention the insurance nightmares. All these challenges were often met by one parent alone, given that an active-duty spouse averaged fifty percent of the year TDY.

Of course she wouldn't be a military wife much longer. She'd spent so long resenting the Air Force, the flash of regret surprised her.

Do you want to give it a shot past the summer?

Did she? Even thinking about it brought back the teeth-chattering panic she'd felt in Zach's office after they'd made love. Zach had been doing his determined best to convince her to stay without ever laying a finger on her. He'd made it all too clear he didn't intend to have sex with her again without an invitation into her bed.

And oh man, but he was wearing her down with a full-frontal attack that showed just how well he understood her.

This guy didn't romance her with a dozen roses that died by the week's end. No, sir. He'd surprised her with a rechargeable drill, complete with an extra battery pack.

Just yesterday, she'd dashed home late after picking up Ivy from ballet practice, already irritable as hell from walking the floors with a cranky baby all day. Zach had expanded his cooking repertoire from chili-mac to a bubbling Crock-Pot of beef stew. All done to convince her he meant business about giving their practical marriage of convenience a chance.

What more could she want?

You aren't in love with me, Zach.

You aren't in love with me either, Jules. What's your point?

A beach ball whizzed past, just before another thunked Julia on the back of the head.

Grateful for the distraction, she scooped it up and tossed it to the six-year-old twins behind her, one of whom had cerebral palsy.