The Seal's Surrender

Clearly, she’d been in charge so long, she never even considered the possibility that people wouldn’t obey her without question. In the military, she might have made it to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Here, she ran the Connelly household like a well-oiled machine and wouldn’t accept anything less.

“Now, how can I help you?” she asked, snatching his attention as she would have the hand of a child inclined to wander off.

Chance glanced around at the others clustered within hearing distance, reluctant to speak up with so many eager ears nearby. The housekeeper noticed and clapped her hands sharply. “What are you bunch staring at? Get about your business. Don’t you have drinks and canapés you could be serving?”

They scattered like windblown leaves, and, in seconds, he was alone in the room with Ruby. “I’m impressed,” he said.

“For running them off? Don’t be. I am sorry about them, though,” the woman said, with a shake of her head. “They’re day help for the party and their mamas apparently forgot to teach them any manners.”

He smiled. “I have a feeling you’ll take care of that.”

She straightened up and puffed out her chest. “I’ll do my best in the short time I have them,” she assured him. “So what is it you need, Mr. Chance?”

He winced a little at the implied title. Now, people calling him “Commander,” he’d earned. He could even live with “Hey, sailor,” but “Mr. Chance”? No way. That was just way too highfalutin. “Just, Chance, all right?”

One corner of her mouth twitched, but she only nodded. “Chance it is, then.” She studied him for a long minute, then said, “You know, you’ve the look of your father around the eyes. More so than your brother does.”

Chance shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t necessarily want to be reminded that he looked like the man who’d managed to ignore both him and his brother their whole lives. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway? Thank you didn’t seem appropriate somehow. So he ignored the comment entirely.

After all, it wasn’t as if he’d come here looking to find family. He already had his family. Douglas. With the death of their mother, all they had left was each other. And that had always been enough before.

The only reason he was here at all was as a favor to Doug. And if he hadn’t been shot by that sneaky little terrorist on his last mission, he wouldn’t have had to put up with any of the pomp and circumstance surrounding the Connellys. But then, he wouldn’t have been here to ride to Jennifer’s rescue, either, would he?

And that thought returned him to why he’d come to the kitchen in the first place.

“Any chance I could get a glass of water and a box of tissues?” he asked.

Ruby narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she looked at him. “Feel a crying jag coming on, do you?”

Chance played along. “Yes, ma’am. I’m feeling real emotional.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.” But without another word, she bustled around the room and came back with just what he’d asked for. As he turned to leave the room, though, her voice stopped him. “You tell Jennifer for me that everything’s going to be all right.”

He looked at her. Shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. He’d already discovered that nothing much went on around here that Ruby didn’t know about. “What?”

“I’ve been with the Connellys for more years than I care to admit. Not much gets past me. I know there’s something wrong.”

Nodding, he told her, “You would have made a good admiral.”

“Phooey,” she said, waving one hand to dismiss him. “Admirals are small stuff. I’d have made a good president.”

“You know something?” he said, giving her a wink, “I believe you.” Then he slipped from the room before she could give him any orders he’d be too afraid not to follow.

“Oh, this is good,” Jennifer told herself aloud as she clutched the balcony railing and stared out at Lake Michigan. “Way to ensure your employment, Jen.” Shaking her head, she blinked back tears that still threatened and solemnly vowed they wouldn’t fall. She’d already screwed up big-time.

What had she been thinking? Crying on the shoulder of the guest of honor at her employer’s party. The one time she indulged in a good old-fashioned pity party, she had to be caught by Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous.

“For goodness’ sake,” she grumbled, tightening her grip on the cold iron railing. She lifted her face into the wind sweeping in off the lake and told herself that if she was very lucky, the newest addition to the Connelly family would keep her embarrassing behavior to himself.

Although, for all she knew he was inside now, trying to get Emma to come out and comfort her, readily handing off the crazed secretary to someone else. She could almost imagine him, stalking through the party, heading for the front door as fast as he could. And she couldn’t really blame him, either.

What man wanted to be a human tissue for a weeping woman? Especially one he hardly knew.

Behind her, the glass door slid open, allowing a brief pulse of conversation and piano music onto the balcony, and in an instant, the door closed again, sealing off the intrusion.

She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. She knew who it was. She felt his presence almost as an electrical charge. Her nerve endings hummed and the hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up.

Probably not a good sign.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said and darned if his voice didn’t scrape along those already tense nerves.

Get a grip, Jen. He’s your boss’s stepson. He’s a stranger. He doesn’t give a damn about your problems and there’s nothing between you but an embarrassing crying jag.

So why was her stomach suddenly in knots and her breath coming fast and hard?

Because you’re an idiot, she told herself just before turning to look at him.

Well, that didn’t help any. He was just too darned good-looking, that was the problem. He looked like a poster boy for navy recruiting. Or like one of those navy lawyers on that television show. His uniform shone a bright white against the backdrop of the blue lake and shimmering April sky. The ribbons decorating his chest drew her eye as did the SEAL pin he wore proudly. Then she looked farther up, into his eyes, and saw…concern. And that nearly did her in on the spot.

Darn it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Oh, dandy,” she told him and sniffed.

He held out the box of tissues and she gratefully snatched one free of the dispenser. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and still didn’t feel better.

“Here, drink this.” He offered the tall, pale-blue glass he carried.

“What is it?” she asked as she reached for it. “Hemlock?”

“Nothing so deadly,” he said with a half laugh. “Just water.”

She took a drink, letting the liquid soothe her tight throat before trying to talk again. Lifting her gaze to his, she said, “Thank you. For the tissue and the water.”

“Here to serve, ma’am,” he said.

“But I bet you didn’t expect to have to go above and beyond the call at a party.”

He shrugged. “Hey, a party, a terrorist situation—the SEALS can handle it all.”

“Good to know,” she muttered, then, still clutching her glass of water, turned around again to stare out at the lake. She couldn’t keep looking at him. That just wasn’t good for her equilibrium. Way better on her nerves to stare out at a lake the size of an ocean, its choppy waves slapping toward Lake Shore Drive.

“Tell me about your daughter,” he said quietly and Jennifer’s eyes closed briefly on a twinge of something as painful as it was tender.

But she supposed she owed him this, for crying all over him.

“Sarah’s so smart,” she said, and though her voice started out thin and trembling, talking about her pride and joy strengthened it. Shaking her head, she continued, “She started talking before she was a year old and now she’s already arguing with me.” Jennifer chuckled, and the sound grated against her throat. “When she’s a teenager—” when not if, she told herself silently “—we’ll probably lock horns all the time.”

“Probably,” he said agreeably. “God knows Doug and I drove our poor mother nuts when we were teenagers. Of course your Sarah most likely won’t be into drag racing, so that’s one worry you won’t have.”

She flicked him a glance, not at all surprised by his little admission. He was a SEAL, after all. And clearly he loved his job. So it naturally followed that as a kid, he would have sought out dangerous pastimes.

Just like Mike, she thought with an inward acknowledgment of old pain. The two of them would have gotten along great together, no doubt. Then, as if he’d sensed what she was thinking, the man beside her spoke up again.

“Your husband must be just as proud of her as you are,” Chance said.

“My husband’s dead,” she said, tasting the words it had taken her so long to get used to saying.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You didn’t know,” she said softly. “No reason to be sorry. He’s been gone almost two years now.” She sighed heavily. “He never even knew Sarah.”

A long uncomfortable minute passed before he said, “I was raised by a single mother,” he said. “I know how hard it is.”

She looked up at him, into those whiskey-colored eyes and read understanding there. And darn it, she appreciated it. Though Emma was beyond kind and a good friend as well as an employer, she couldn’t really appreciate what it was like to be the sole person responsible for raising a child. Not when she had Grant, as much in love with her today as he had been years ago.

Then he said, “If you don’t mind my asking, how did your husband die?”

“Mike was a police officer,” she said, lifting her chin just a bit. “He was killed in the line of duty. I was still pregnant with Sarah when he died. He never even saw her.”

“Maybe he did,” Chance said and she looked at him. “Maybe he sees her every day.”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I’ve seen enough things over the years to convince me that anything’s possible.” He paused for a long minute, then said, “I never knew my father, either.” Then he stopped and laughed shortly. “At least, not until a few days ago.”

She shook her head in sympathy, though she was glad to turn the subject away from Mike. “I can’t even imagine what that must be like,” she said, choosing her words carefully now. “Finding your blood father after so many years…”

He nodded, lifting his face into the cold, sharp wind. “I know what you mean. I’m not real sure how I feel about it, either. But,” he said, giving a quick look over his shoulder, “it meant something to Doug, so here I am.”

“You only came here for your brother’s sake?”

“Why else?”

“To get to know your family?”

“Nah. My mother’s gone now, so my family is Doug. The rest…” He shook his head again as if he didn’t know quite what else to say.

“The Connellys are nice people,” Jennifer said, wanting him to know that this new family of his was ready and willing to welcome him.

“Seem to be.”

“They’ve been wonderful to me and Sarah.”

He gave her a slow smile. “If your daughter’s anything like you, I can’t see that that would be a hardship.”

Oh, that smile was just as dangerous as the man, she told herself, taking a mental step backward. She didn’t need this kind of complication right now. Her world was Sarah. Her attentions had to be devoted to making her little girl well again. And to help her keep her attentions focused, she knew the best thing to do was to keep her distance from this man.

“I, uh—” She glanced at the sliding glass doors with real regret. Though she knew she had to leave the balcony, she wasn’t looking forward to making small talk while her heart was aching. Still, this party was a big deal for Grant and Emma. Hadn’t Jennifer and her employer been planning it for weeks? No, heartache or not, she had to do her job. “I’d better get back inside,” she said and even she heard the reluctance in her voice.

Chance straightened away from the railing and looked from the doors to her. She wasn’t ready to go back in there and face the chattering mob. He could see it in her eyes. The vulnerability was still there, etched deep.

It was none of his business, of course, but still, he felt a kinship of sorts with her. She was a single mother, as his own mom had been. Her husband had served the public, his country, as Chance did, only he had paid the ultimate price. A rising wave of protectiveness filled him and before he could think more of it, he said, “I think the party can get along without either of us. So why don’t you let me take you home instead?”

She thought about it for a long minute, and he could see in her eyes just how much she wanted to get out of here. The question was, would she?

“As much as I’d like to,” she said, “I don’t think I should—”

“With that crowd in there, no one will even miss us.”

“Emma would.”

He acknowledged that with a brief nod. “Okay, then, we’ll stop and tell her we’re leaving. I should say thanks, anyway.”

Now that her objections were taken care of, all that was stopping her from taking him up on his offer was the fact that he was a virtual stranger—long-lost relative of her employer or not. “You can trust me,” he said softly.

Her lips twitched slightly. “It’s not that,” she said.

“Then what? I’m just offering you a ride home, not a weekend trip to Jamaica.” Why was he trying so hard to convince her? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that suddenly he needed to be the one to see her safely to her door.

She looked beyond the glass doors again to the party, and he saw her shudder. She really didn’t want to go back in there. And damned if he could blame her. He had no interest in rejoining the mob, either.

And playing on that feeling, he said, “You’d be doing me a favor.”

“What?”

He smiled. “You’d be rescuing me from mingling.”

Her lips twitched. “A fate worse than death?”

“Oh, definitely.”

She nodded, and he knew this battle was won. “Well,” she said, her decision made, “I suppose I shouldn’t turn down my one chance to be a hero.”

Three

A thick wall of noise welcomed them back inside the Connelly mansion, and for one brief moment, Jennifer thought about turning tail and disappearing again onto the balcony. But it wouldn’t do any good. She had to make it through the minefield of the party to make good her escape at some point anyway. Better to do it now, when she had a tall, imposing man striding beside her, subtly clearing a path.

Faces flashed past as Chance steered her through the crowd with one strong hand at the small of her back. His touch felt warm, comforting, somehow. Strange, but she hadn’t experienced that little nicety since Mike’s death and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed it. But then, she’d realized over the last couple of years that it was the small things that, once they were gone, left the biggest holes.

Now there was no one to hold her chair out for her at a nice restaurant. No one who knew how to whistle for a cab loudly enough to gather up a regular cluster of them. No one to kill a spider in the bathroom in the middle of the night. No one to warm her feet on, or to whisper to in the movies. No one to care for, to cook for, to worry about.

A wistful smile crossed her face. Of course, any self-respecting women’s libber would have a heart attack if she could read Jennifer’s mind. But she didn’t care. She had always considered herself pretty liberated, but when it came right down to it, she’d liked being married. She’d liked being half of a team. And sometimes she missed that feeling so much, a slow, deep ache wrapped itself around her heart.

But then all it would take was one sweet smile from Sarah and everything was all right again. Silently, she reminded herself that she would never be alone again, not really. Not as long as she and Sarah had each other.

And that thought made her think of the heart operation her baby needed, and tears welled up in her eyes. It didn’t seem to make a difference that the doctors all assured her that it would be a simple thing, as operations went. That though any procedure carried risks, Sarah had an excellent chance at a full and complete recovery.

Because no matter the kind words and assurances, Sarah was her baby. Her family. And the thought of losing her was simply too much to contemplate. She couldn’t even imagine a world without her little girl in it—so she didn’t. Jennifer blinked frantically, slammed a mental door on the dark, worrisome thoughts and hurried her steps. All she wanted now was to get out of here before she could be bombarded with concerned questions.

“There they are,” Chance muttered, bending his head close to her ear.

Her gaze shifted to the right and she saw Grant and Emma Connelly, having what looked to be a very involved discussion with Seth. None of them looked very happy.

Jennifer slowed down instinctively, not wanting to intrude on what was obviously a strained moment. Shaking her head, she shot a glance up at the man beside her. “It looks like they’re busy. Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt.”

He took her upper arm in a firm, but gentle grip and gave her a smile. “We won’t interrupt them for long. Then they can go back to whatever it is that’s got them all frowning so.”

As they approached the threesome, Jennifer over-heard Seth saying, “I just have to go and see her. I don’t want to hurt you, Mom,” he said to Emma, “but Angie Donahue is my birth mother. And I have to know why she suddenly wants to see me.” He reached for Emma’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll be fine. I promise. And I’ll be back.”

Through teary eyes, Emma glanced at Grant, who kept his gaze focused on the young man in front of him, as though, if he studied him hard enough, he’d be able to pull the thoughts from Seth’s mind. Finally, though, the elder Connelly said gruffly, “You do what you have to do, son. We’re behind you all the way. Just like always. And we’ll be here waiting for you when you come home.”

Whatever the boy might have said in response was lost when Emma noticed Chance and Jennifer approaching. She smiled in welcome and made shooing gestures at Seth with both hands.

“And what are you two up to?” she asked as they came closer.

“I just wanted to say thank you, ma’am, for your hospitality,” Chance said, then added, “and to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Grant asked abruptly. “Already?”

Jennifer’s gaze flicked from father to son and though she knew Chance probably wouldn’t be happy to hear it, she privately acknowledged just how much he looked like his biological father. But it wasn’t just their features they shared. Both of the men had an air of self-confidence about them that people naturally gravitated toward.

It was part of the reason Grant had done so well in the business world—and why Chance would inevitably continue his rise through the ranks. No doubt one day he’d be an admiral. Men like the Connellys were born conquerors. All that differed were the prizes they sought.

“Jennifer’s not feeling well,” Chance was saying, “so I offered to take her home.”

“Aah…” Grant nodded thoughtfully as his gaze flicked from his son to Jennifer and back again.

Jennifer felt her cheeks warm up at the knowing gleam in Grant’s eyes, so she spoke up quickly. “I, uh—” think fast, Jen “—have a headache,” she finished. Well, that was brilliant. But she didn’t want to go into Sarah’s medical problems now. Not at the party. “Commander Barnett was kind enough to offer me a ride.”

“Barnett?” Grant stared at the man who was his son.

A touchy subject, Jennifer knew. Chance quite naturally wanted to keep the name he knew. The name his mother had given him. Grant, just as naturally, wanted his sons to use his name.

It would be interesting to see who eventually won this little tug-of-war.

“Sir,” Chance said, holding his right hand out to his father, “thank you. It was a nice party.”

Grant harrumphed. “You hated it.”

“Pretty much,” Chance acknowledged.

“Knew you would. Too much like me.”

Chance nodded shortly. “Maybe.”

Grant dropped one arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Emma’s the party-giver around here. Loves the hustle and bustle. She just tells me when to show up.”

Emma gave his broad chest a playful slap, before looking at Chance. “It’s true, you know. He’d much rather be out taking over small companies or sailing, or…well, just about anything.”

Jennifer watched as a small smile curved Chance’s lips, and to her surprise, a curl of something delightful spiraled through her in response. Oh, that probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Then maybe we are more alike than I’d thought,” Chance allowed as Grant took his outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake.

His father smiled. “I’ll settle for a maybe. For now.”

“Seems fair,” Chance told him.

“All right, then,” Emma spoke up. “Jennifer, I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow. Why don’t you take the day off?”

“Oh, that won’t be—”

“A day off’s not going to bring the world to an end,” her employer told her firmly. Then she shifted a look at Chance. “You drive carefully. Without Jennifer, I’d never get a thing done around here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Chance said, and in seconds he had Jennifer turned around and headed for the front door. They skirted the edges of the party and avoided being stopped again. Their steps clicked on the cold marble of the main staircase, then echoed as they moved into the grand entry hall on the main floor. Here, the marble gleamed and shone in the spill of late-afternoon sunshine slashing through the wide front windows. Chance left her just long enough to grab their coats, and once she was bundled up, he ushered her outside into the bite of the cold Chicago wind.

“I’m parked just up the street,” he said. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll go get the car?”

“Thanks, I’d rather walk.”

“Suit yourself,” he said smiling, then offered her his arm.

Arms linked, they took the short flight of steps to the sidewalk below, crossed the narrow strip of lawn and turned onto Michigan Avenue.

“I can’t believe you found a place to park around here.”

He grinned at her and Jennifer sucked in a breath. That really was a devastating weapon he had tucked away. Thankfully, her defenses had been strengthened over the last two years.

“I’m a SEAL, remember? We excel at the impossible.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

While they walked, he talked, as if somehow sensing that she wasn’t in the mood to discuss her problems anymore tonight. She listened to stories of his and Doug’s childhood, heard the pride in his voice when he talked about his mother and what she’d managed to accomplish all on her own. She hoped that one day Sarah would be as kind when talking about her.

God knows, she tried to be both mom and dad. But it wasn’t easy. Despite having a great job with the most understanding employer in the free world, Jennifer was pushed every day, wondering how to get everything done. She had no idea at all how women with less going for them managed to survive.

“It must have been so hard for her,” she finally said, looking up at him. The wind blew strands of blond hair across her face and she plucked them out of her way so she could see him clearly.

He stared off into the distance as if looking into years past and nodded. “Yeah, it was,” he said, “but we didn’t know that at the time. She made it look so easy. Mom wasn’t the kind to sit around and whine about finding herself. Or wishing that things were different. She used to say that the only thing you could change in life was yourself. So do the best you can.”

“Smart woman.”

“Oh, yeah.” He turned his head to look down at her and gave her yet another of those great smiles. “She would have liked you.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Because your daughter’s so important to you.”

Something clutched at her heart, but Jennifer only said, “She’s everything to me.”