Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

The words rolled out of her, ringing with a conviction he couldn't fight even if he tried. And he definitely didn't want to fight with her anymore.

Her soft hands caressed up to his face. "We started with nothing, and in twenty-two years you've risen to a rank most in your profession never see. You've given me three precious babies, and we've brought up two of those children. They may not be perfect, but then neither are their parents and I'm still proud of who Nikki and Chris are becoming. Even our house, we did this from the front porch you replaced to that ivy I stenciled."

Those words rolling from her settled into him with a rightness that brought peace. Yeah, he still wanted to give her more, but now knew he could keep her happy while they waited.

He turned his face to kiss her hand again. "I'm partial to that ivy."

"Me, too." Her arms looped around his neck. "You've given me something I never had as a child. The chance to hold up my head. To be proud of who I am."

Studying her dark eyes, he found flecks and sparks of pain he'd seen reflected in the mirror and in the eyes of his crew-mates. He'd understood about Rena's upbringing and had been determined to take her away from the ugliness of that world. But he'd never realized until now that his wife had also spent time in a war zone. With guns. Deceit. Danger. What a scarring way for a child to grow up, now that he actually thought about it.

In flipping his switch, maybe he'd closed off the chance for his wife to share some burdens with him, too. Something he now knew to fix.

Rena's arms slipped forward and she lifted his hands, kissed each palm as he'd done to hers. "I love your hands and what they do for me, but I need you for so many reasons that have nothing to do with what your body can provide." She tapped his forehead. "What are you thinking?"

A thousand things, about their past, her past, all things they could share later in bed. And with the counselor. And on moonlit nights by the shore.

For right now, he'd settled for the obvious, most important answer and a piece of himself to share with her. "You reminded me of a quote from a Shakespearean play, A Midsummer Night's Dream, I think. It goes something like, 'Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.'"

"Wow. Am I ever one lucky lady or what?" She arched up against him, whispering against his mouth. "I get love, a hunky flyboy and sensitive poetry all in one fella."

His mouth found hers, settled, held while relief over their new start swept through both of them.

And then the chemistry soared. Ooh-rah.

Her lips parted or his mouth opened. Who could tell what happened first? And what the hell did it matter? Because he was too busy exploring the warm, moist heat of Rena.

She tipped back, tugging him down onto the bed with her. Definitely ooh-rah.

He caught himself with his elbows against the bounce of the mattress, careful of the baby, of her. "You still haven't answered my question."

"What question was that?" She tickled her fingers along the nape of his neck.

"Will you go out with me this Friday?" Gathering a fistful of her hair, he kissed along her jaw, her ear, not at all averse to using a little persuasion. "We could catch a movie, go park by the shore afterward."

"Yes, I would love to go out with you, anywhere, anytime. Surprise me." She stroked her delicate foot up the length of his leg, slow, deliberate, until her leg hooked around his hip. "And it's a sure bet you'll get lucky on the first date."

Epilogue

How could a guy get so lucky in one lifetime?

Smiling, J.T. followed his wife up the stairs to their bedroom, the gentle sway of her hips, the swing of her spiral curls along her back drawing his eyes as always. Framed pictures of kids marked the years. And soon, another photo would be added to the collection once the hospital's newborn picture taken just last night was developed.

He cupped his hands around his son's tiny back, securing the baby to his shoulder with a seasoned grip. Like riding a bicycle. J.T. remembered the parent-hold well. One hand cradled under his son's bottom, the other hand cupping Jamie's dark, curly head.

Jamie. James Renard Price. Not a junior, but rather James for J.T. and Renard as a masculine form of Rena. Their two names blended for this baby who had brought them together.

He and Rena had come a long way in the past few months with the help of their marriage counselor. Not always easy, spilling their thoughts, but well worth the effort in the payback of a solid relationship. He'd learned to open up more. She'd learned that his quiet moods didn't mean distant. Rena had even told him she'd gained all the more faith in her abilities now that she'd seen how effective counseling could be from the other side of the desk.

So much love flowed freely these days, for his wife, for his new son, his other children, too. Life was good.

And about to get even better once Rena saw the surprise waiting to welcome her home.

Like a teenager ready to impress his first girlfriend, he followed her up the last stair, down the hall, to their bedroom. He stopped his wife before she could open the closed door. "Wait right here."

"How come?"

He sealed a quick kiss on her lips. "Trust me."