“I’d be lying if I said I’d only come to say hello. But there are a lot of loose ends to my past that have to be tied, and until that happens, I don’t have the luxury of making plans.”

Cara felt the blood draining from her face. That wasn’t what she expected to hear.

“That sounds fatal,” she said, trying to fake a laugh.

He didn’t answer, and the laugh became a sob.

“My God…tell me I’m wrong.”

“I can’t make promises…but if I could, then I’d be giving you fair warning that I wanted back in your life.”

Her voice trembled. “How far?”

“As far as you’d let me go.”

“Ah…David…you always were a hard sell,” she said, and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

The weight of her body against his chest was a gift.

“So, are you saying it’s enough?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not saying that, but I am saying that I’ll take what you’re willing to give. I asked for too much the first time and lost you. I’m not willing to make that mistake again.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“God…woman, you don’t know how many years I’ve dreamed of this.”

She pulled back to look at him. “Oh, but yes, I do. And while I would like the luxury of being wooed and courted, I’m not willing to waste our time on the ritual.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up the same way. I want to laugh with you and cook for you and play with you. I don’t want to think about loose ends. Whatever time you have to give me will have to be enough.”

He tunneled his fingers through her hair, taking her kiss without asking, ripping her emotions to shreds with the anguish on his face.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said.

“No, you don’t,” she said. “But I do.”

He laughed softly, then swept her off her feet and into his arms.

“Are you going to make love to me?” she asked.

“Hell, yes,” he muttered.

She sighed. “It’s about time.”

“If you don’t mind,” David whispered, nuzzling the side of her neck, “I’d rather do this in a bed this time.”

“Down the hall, third door on the right.”

As he carried her there, he had to remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. Cara was really in his arms.

When they reached Cara’s room, he set her down by her bed and kissed her. Tentatively, then gently, then with a low, muffled groan.

Cara tangled her arms around his neck, clutching him desperately. When he began to take off her clothes, her knees went weak. This was happening, she knew, but it was all so surreal. She couldn’t count the number of times in her life when she’d imagined such a scene. David striding through the door and sweeping her into his arms and then carrying her off into the sunset. The fantasy had lasted through her twenties and her thirties, and somewhere around the middle of her forties, she’d given up on fantasies.

Now this was happening and it wasn’t a dream.

It wasn’t a fantasy.

It was David—a rock-solid, flesh-and-blood man who wanted her as much as she wanted him.

When he began pulling off her clothes, then his, her pulse accelerated. Seconds later, she was flat on her back in the middle of her bed and he was hovering above her.

“You are so very beautiful,” David whispered, and then rolled over onto his side and began tracing the contours of her body with one hand, fingering the curve of her chin, cupping the shape of a breast, mapping the plains of her belly, then testing the juncture between her thighs.

Cara’s heart was pounding, her mouth slack with desire. She wanted to touch him, too, to test the strength of his muscles against the tenderness of his gaze, but she was too distracted by what he was doing.

“David?”

He shook his head and leaned over her, taking license with everything that he chose while leaving her breathless and aching for more.

One minute passed and then another and another and the coil that had been winding within Cara’s belly began to throb. She moaned, then moaned again. This time louder. This time longer.

David’s head was pounding as the blood rushed through his veins. The need to be inside her was strong, but he was waiting for that breaking point of coming undone.

Then he heard her gasp and saw her eyes lose all focus. When she clutched at his arms, his name a prayer on her lips, he made his move.

“David…oh…oh…please.”

He was above her and inside her before she took her next breath. Her climax shook him, coming within three strokes of entry, and it was all he could do not to follow. But when she started to cry in soft, happy sobs, he couldn’t hold himself back. The joy of knowing he’d given her this pleasure was an aphrodisiac he couldn’t control. He rode the feeling with all the strength he could muster, and when it was over, thought he’d died in her arms.

Cara woke abruptly, as mothers always do when sensing something wasn’t right in their world. Only this time, it wasn’t the high-pitched wail of a frightened child that woke her, it was the man beside her. She lay motionless, listening to the labored rhythm of his breathing, and fought an urge to cry. His skin was clammy and he kept muttering something she couldn’t understand. She raised up on one elbow, staring intently into the shadowed contours of his face, then let her gaze drift down his body. She’d seen the scars. Bullet holes. A shrapnel wound. A thick, ropy scar along the back of his leg. Dear Lord, what had happened to him? What hell was he reliving in his dreams?

Suddenly, he sat straight up in bed and she fell back in surprise.

“David?”

At the sound of her voice, his body went limp.

“I forgot where I was,” he said.

“You were dreaming.”

“Yes.”

“Can I get you something? A glass of water? Some aspirin?”

He crawled out of bed and walked across the room to where his suitcase was lying.

“Where are you going?” she asked, as she watched him dig a pair of shorts from the case.

“I need to run it off,” he said shortly. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Run what off, David?”

He turned then, nothing but a mass of shadow and shape on the other side of the room, but the tone of his voice was image enough.

“The past.”

“But David, you can’t run away from the past.”

“I know, but I can damn well wear it out. Now go back to sleep. I’ll let myself in when I come back.”

“You’ll need a key,” she said, and started to get up.

“No, I won’t.”

Then he was gone.

She lay there for a moment, absorbing the last thing he’d said and then started to tremble. What kind of man had she let into her bed?

Chapter 3

David ran without thought, focusing only on the impact of foot to ground and the mind-numbing relief that exhaustion always brought. Leaving Cara had seemed cowardly, especially after he’d come all this way to see her. But he was too ashamed to let her see his weaknesses—to admit that something as innocuous as a nightmare could undo him to this extent.

When he’d first run into the woods behind her house, he’d gone without a destination other than to forget. But a short time later, when he realized he had no idea where he was, he paused in a clearing and looked at the sky, reading the heavens like road map. The North Star was a constant that he quickly sought out. Once he found it, he realigned himself with the world and wished it was as simple to do that in his own life. By the time he’d outrun the demons, he had begun to circle back and was less than a mile from her home. Now it was simply a matter of getting there before exhaustion hit.

He came out of the trees, his steps dragging, his feet numb and burning. As he started up the gentle slope behind her house, he looked up and then stopped.

Lights.

She’d turned on the lights so he could see to come home.

There had been so many times in his life when he had not allowed himself the luxury of shedding a tear. He had no way of knowing that the simple act of lighting his way home was all it would take. But now…

He shuddered, then swallowed around a lump in his throat. Not once since he’d begun this lonely journey that had become his life had he had someone to come home to.

Dear God, if only he did belong here—to Cara and what was left of her world. He needed it—deserved it. He’d given up so damned much. Surely he would be allowed some joy on this earth before his days were over. He took a deep breath and then shook off the thoughts. As long as the showdown with Frank still loomed, he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on the future. He threw back his shoulders and started to walk.

Cara saw him come out of the trees. Her shoulders sagged with a relief she wouldn’t voice. He paused at the bottom of the hill, and although she couldn’t see his features, she was struck by the stillness of his posture, as if he’d become a part of the scenery. Then he started toward her, his steps slow and dragging.

She stood up from the chair in which she’d been sitting, then stayed within the shadows, struggling with the urge to run to him. Still uncertain where she fit into his life, she watched, waiting to take her cue from him.

David felt her presence before he saw her, and when she stepped out of the shadows to the edge of the porch, a weight lifted from his chest. This was just like a dream he’d had so many times before. Coming home to find this woman awaiting his arrival was nothing short of a miracle.

“Cara.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“I made some coffee. There are fresh towels and a washcloth in the bathroom.” She hesitated, then added, “Do you need anything else?”

He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Just you.”

“I’ve been here all the time.”

“I know. I’m the one who’s been lost.”

She walked off the porch and took him by the hand.

“Then welcome home, my darling,” she said softly, and led him inside.

David went silently, knowing that simple act had done more toward saving his sanity than anything else she could have ever done.

When he came out of the shower it was close to four in the morning. The lights were out in the rest of the house, with only a small ginger jar lamp lighting the area beside Cara’s bed. He stood in the doorway, watching her sleep. So still. So beautiful.

He wondered how many times Ray Justice had done this very same thing, maybe in this very same place—watching his wife in their bed. Jealousy burned low in his gut but he shoved it aside. There was nothing left to be jealous about. The man was dead, and he was here.

But there was Frank.

The possibility existed that he might never have another chance to do this—to stand within the quiet of a home and watch the woman he loved as she slept. This time, it was regret that drew him to the bed. He pulled back the covers and slipped in beside her, selfishly taking everything she had to offer now.

When she sighed and turned, snuggling her cheek against his chest, his arms tightened around her.

God…don’t let this end.

Then he closed his eyes and let exhaustion claim him.

David smelled coffee and rolled over in surprise. Most of his adult life had hinged on being cognizant of his surroundings, even in his sleep, and yet Cara had arisen from this bed and dressed without him knowing it. And from the scents wafting down the hallway, she’d been up for some time. Not only did he smell coffee, but if he wasn’t mistaken, also bacon and the aroma of baking bread. He rolled out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of shorts and a shirt, unwilling to waste another moment of this day. After a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair, he padded barefoot down the hall. The television was on in the living room and he stopped, taking a moment to listen to the announcer.

“Talks between the Irish Republican Army and Great Britain have come to a halt. Reports from unnamed sources tell us that the recent bombing in Trafalgar Square has been attributed to a renegade faction of the IRA and that until this has been sorted out, negotiations will cease.”

“Damn,” David muttered, and made himself a mental note to check on the status of the situation. When the announcer continued, he lingered another moment, although he was torn between his duty to SPEAR and his longing to be with Cara.

“On the local front, hit-and-run robberies are continuing within a three-county area of upstate New York. Just last night, a liquor store in Three Corners was held up, and the clerk on duty was shot and robbed of more than six thousand dollars. The woman, a thirty-four-year-old Asian mother of two, is still in surgery. More on her condition later.”

David sighed, sorry for the woman and her family, but his focus had to be on the larger picture. Even though it was on a limited basis, terrorism had already made its mark in the United States. It was part of his job to make sure it didn’t escalate.

When the station broke for commercial, he turned to other issues—namely breakfast with Cara.

When he entered the kitchen, Cara was washing her hands at the sink. He walked up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.

Cara gasped with surprise.

“David! You startled me,” she said, then she leaned back against him and closed her eyes as his hands moved up her belly to her breasts.

“Then we both got a surprise this morning,” he said, as he turned her in his arms and kissed the smile on her lips.

“How so?” Cara asked.

“I never heard you get up.”

She shrugged. “I was trying to be quiet. You were sleeping so soundly I thought you must need the rest.”

“That’s beside the point,” David said. “There were lots of days and nights I went without sleep and I still stayed alert. It made the difference in my ever seeing another sunrise.”

She cupped his face with her hands. “Yes, but that was when you were in danger, right?”

“Yes.”

“So…subconsciously, you knew there was nothing here to fear. End of story. Now come sit down. Breakfast is almost done.”

She was right, and the answer was so simple, he didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him first. Maybe he’d spent too much of his life in hiding to be able to do this normal-guy stuff.

“Need any help?” he asked.

“No, but thanks.”

He took a seat, thinking he couldn’t remember the last time he sat down to a meal with flowers on the table. Then he saw the basket of hot blueberry muffins and his heart skipped a beat. He felt Cara’s hand on the back of his neck.

He looked at her. She was smiling.

“You remembered,” he said softly.

“How could I forget,” Cara said, and then brushed a brief kiss across his mouth. “We had breakfast together at Flanders’ Deli the morning you left for basic training. I was so mad at you and I still came to say goodbye.”

David sighed, unwilling to think about the negative aspects of their parting. “It was blueberry muffins with some kind of sugary stuff on top.”

“Streusel. It’s called streusel.”

David touched the corner of her mouth. “You had it stuck right here.”

Cara smiled. “And you removed it with your tongue. Caused quite a scene there in the deli, as I recall.” Then she frowned. “Someone told my parents. When I got home, there was the proverbial hell to pay.”

“Sorry,” David said.

“I’m not. Even though they’ve been gone for several years, after knowing what they did to us, David, I don’t think I can ever forgive them.”

“Holding on to grudges isn’t healthy,” he said, thinking of Frank. “Let’s just focus on here and now.”

Cara sensed he was alluding to more than what her parents had done, because that dark look was back in his eyes. Determined not to talk about anything negative, she handed him a muffin and made herself smile.

“Start on that while I get the rest of our food.”

The bread was warm against his palm, and when he broke it open, the scent of sugar and blueberries made him feel like a kid of sixteen all over again. Ignoring the butter and jam, he took a big bite, savoring the taste as well as the thought behind it.

“What do you think?” Cara asked as she set a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs at his place.

He swallowed. “I think Ray Justice was a damned lucky man.”

At first, the mention of her deceased husband was startling, until she began to accept the compliment in the manner in which it had been made. She smiled.

“Why, David…what a genuinely dear thing to say.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I have my moments.”

She laughed and then went to get her own food, leaving David with the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears and the knowledge that whatever happened later, he’d been right in coming.

They finished their meal in near silence, each absorbed in the simple wonder of sharing food. For Cara, the whole experience seemed surreal. Day before yesterday, David Wilson was a heartache from her past, and now he was sitting in her house, at her table, eating the food that she’d prepared. But this David was nothing like the boy who’d left her behind. He was hard and secretive and rarely smiled. She wanted her old David back. Not only that, she wanted more—so much more. But she kept remembering an old saying about being careful of what you wished for. Her life was settled. If he stayed, could she live with a man with so many secrets—a man who had to wear himself out physically to be able to rest? She sighed. God help them both, because she had never wanted anything so much in her life and she was afraid she wouldn’t be up to the task.

David got up to pour himself another cup of coffee.

“Want a refill?” he asked.

“No, I’ve had enough.”

Her words wrapped around his senses, reminding him that he would never have enough of her. The smile he’d been wearing stopped at the corner of his mouth as he sat the cup down on the counter, unfilled. Then he walked across the room, pulled her up from her chair and into his arms.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice husky with promise.

She smiled. “Maybe I was a little hasty.”

“If you come back to the bedroom with me, we can take all the time you need to decide.”

A shiver of longing rolled through her as she slid her arms around his neck.

“The way I’m feeling right now, it won’t take any time at all.”

A rare smile broke the somberness of his face as he scooped her up in his arms.

“I can walk,” she said, as he carried her down the hall.

He laid her on the bed and then crawled on top of her, straddling her legs. There was a gleam in his eye as he began to undress her.

“Tell me that again afterward,” he said.

Breath caught in the back of her throat as his hands tugged her shirt from the waistband of her slacks. From where she was lying, he seemed indomitable. And then he leaned forward and centered his mouth across her lips. She moaned.

He leaned even closer, his mouth against her ear as he whispered something dark and promising that sent her sense of self into a tailspin. Could she do something like that—even with a man she loved?

Clothes came off, flying in every direction.

Her slacks.

His shorts.

Her bra.

His shirt.

When there was nothing left between them but his promises, he turned her over on her stomach.

Cara shivered as his hands encircled her ankles. After that, nothing in her life would ever be the same.

Cara stepped out of the shower to find David waiting on her. She smiled slowly, gazing her fill of his strong, naked body and the look in his eyes.

David returned her grin as he wrapped her in a towel.

“What?” he asked.

“It would have been an absolute tragedy if I’d lived my whole life without experiencing that.”

The corner of his mouth tilted, but not much. “That, as you call it, is one of the most interesting pages of the Kama Sutra.”

“Oh? And here I thought you’d learned that from some Mata Hari type during your world travels.”

“Hell, honey, it wasn’t a James Bond type of life, I can tell you that. I could count the number of women I’ve slept with in the last twenty years on one hand and have fingers left over.”

“Oh, I wasn’t speaking from jealousy,” Cara said. “Quite the reverse. I was going to suggest that if I’m ever with you and you see any of those women again, please introduce me.”

“Why?”

“I want to thank them for whatever they added to your expertise.”

His eyes widened in surprise and then he threw back his head and laughed as he swung her off her feet.

Cara wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning at his delight.

“God, woman, you unman me,” he said, as he set her on her feet.

“Not for too long, I hope. Now let me get dressed. I can’t stay naked all day.”

“Why not?”

Her grin widened. “Because I have things to do.”

He frowned. “What kind of things?”

She shrugged. “Normal, everyday things, like picking up some clothes from the cleaners, buying groceries, washing the car. You know…just stuff.”

David followed her into the bedroom and sat on the bed as she began to dress. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know. Stuff hadn’t been on his agenda since the day he’d left for Vietnam.

“Can I come?”

Cara turned, surprised by the hesitant tone in his voice.

“Of course you can. I expected you to.”

“Is there a dress code for this kind of stuff?”

She started to laugh and then realized he was serious. Her hands fisted as she struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.

“I keep wanting to ask exactly what the hell the United States government did to you in the name of peace, but I’m afraid of the answer. You can wear shorts or any kind of pants. Jeans…slacks, whatever you like. A shirt of any kind is fine with me. There’s this great little restaurant where we can have lunch.” She frowned, then added, “Actually, it’s more like a tearoom, but the dress code is casual.”

“Okay,” David said, and took a pair of chinos from a hanger, then stood for a moment, choosing a shirt that would match.

Cara paused, watching the play of muscles across his back. Her gaze fell on the multitude of scars on his body as it had so many times before. Suddenly blinded by tears, she turned before he could see them and began digging through a dresser drawer.

It occurred to her then that she’d taken her freedom for granted, never considering the countless men who sacrificed on a daily basis so that she would never live in fear. She turned abruptly.

“David.”

“Yeah?” he muttered, as he bent over to tie his shoe.

“Thank you.”

He looked up. “For what?”

“For the years you spent in the service of this country. For the nights you didn’t sleep and the pain—”

He stood and put his forefinger in the center of her mouth, gently stopping what she’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to say this,” he said.

“Yes…actually I do,” Cara said. “I spent a lot of years feeling sorry for myself because my life didn’t work out the way I’d planned. And then I see you, like this, and what you suffered while I was warm and safe and—”

Her voice broke and she looked away.

David’s expression was shuttered. How did he respond to a brutal truth?

“Come here, honey. It’s okay.”

“No,” she muttered. “It will never be okay.”

“It’s almost over,” he said.

She frowned. “That’s not the first time you’ve alluded to unfinished business. What is it, David? Why can’t you tell me?”

He tried to grin. “You know the old spy joke. If I told you, then I’d have to kill you, and we both know I couldn’t do that. So…”

Cara turned away, muttering something beneath her breath as she finished dressing.

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