Once a Hero.... Jillian Burns
How could he return to his unit if he couldn’t get himself under control? He’d be a disgrace to his colleagues, his superiors. “Coward.”
Spinning on his heel he punched the wall. The dog jumped and whimpered. Terrific. He’d dented the Sheetrock in John’s condo. Wow, he really was losing it. He’d be sure to remember to fix that wall before he left.
He hadn’t been out of the condo the past couple of days except to let the dog out into the back courtyard. Maybe he’d better get out of here before he did any more damage. He checked the clock. One forty-five. He could go down and be back before Kristen got home. After their first meeting, he’d bought a collar and leash for the mutt.
Running into her shouldn’t matter.
But it did.
He found himself on the beach, thankfully deserted this time of night, striding down the coast. Details of the nightmare came back to him, as real as if that private had died tonight. Why did these deaths haunt him? Even if Luke wasn’t serving in Afghanistan, fatalities were always a risk for a surgeon. What the hell was wrong with him?
A few more days of this and he’d have to resort to trying a sleep aid. He remembered Kristen’s suggestions. Massage therapy? Hypnosis? Would any of that really work?
Kristen.
He missed her.
Which was ridiculous. He barely knew her.
He slowed and came to a stop. He’d always been quiet. His mother used to say he thought too much. Left alone with his thoughts, especially lately, he could get morose. Kristen might’ve been embarrassed about hogging the conversation, but he’d liked it. She didn’t constantly ask him what he was thinking. And he hadn’t felt as if he had to make polite small talk with her. When he’d been around her, he hadn’t thought about death so much. Her smile and her chatter had kept him entranced, and her positive outlook had been contagious.
Without giving himself time to rethink it, he toed off his sneakers and stepped into the water, letting the waves splash around his ankles and calves, digging his toes into the wet sand. He kicked at the water and let the spray blow into his face. The dog thought this was a great game and barked and splashed around in the waves.
As a remedy for dark moods, this was working fairly well. Maybe there was something to Kristen’s advice. He closed his eyes and thought of her blond hair blowing in the breeze, of her blue eyes full of life and laughter smiling up at him. Why had he blown her off the other night? He couldn’t come up with one good reason now. Except that he was a colossal moron.
Striding out of the water, he grabbed up his sneakers and headed to the picnic table. He sat, leaned his elbows on the table behind him and dropped his head back to look at the stars. The dog decided to shake the water off his coat right next to Luke, spraying him with salty, hairy water. Now he needed to wait to be dry before going in.
His excuse paid off when he saw Kristen riding her bike down Kihei Road as usual. When she veered toward the condo he realized he’d expected her to leave her bike at the rack and head down to the beach. But she hadn’t.
He jumped up and jogged across the street after her. “Kristen,” he called out as he caught up to her.
She glanced behind her, swerved, and her front wheel hit the curb. The bike pitched forward and she screamed and flew off, headfirst.
Reflexes took over. Luke leaped to try to catch her just as she landed onto the grass. Her helmet knocked him on the chin and he lay there stunned, catching his breath. One of her elbows poked into his ribs. Then she shifted and her elbow was replaced with soft, cushiony breasts. His body reacted and he bit back a groan.
His arms were around her and he could feel her bra strap under her T-shirt beneath one palm and a smooth thigh beneath the other. If he slid his hand up a couple inches higher his fingers could caress the soft flesh under the hem of her shorts. He closed his eyes and willed his erection to go away.
How sick was that when she could be hurt? “Are you all right?” He began a rudimentary examination of the bones in her arms and wrists. Nothing felt broken.
“Luke?” She raised her head, unsnapped her helmet and pulled it off. Her hair fell across his face until she turned her head to face him. As he drew a breath, the fragrance of wild berries invaded his senses, attached itself to his bloodstream and shot straight to his groin. Her shampoo.
She looked stunned. “What are you doing here?” Her voice quivered and he snapped back to reality.
“Does anything hurt?”
“I’m fine.” She lifted off him and he had to quell the urge to not let her go.
As she sat up, so did he, taking note of how she favored her left shoulder. “You are hurt.” He gently explored her clavicle and she winced.
“It doesn’t feel broken. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”
She chuckled. “I’m fine, Doc. Just bruised.” She gingerly got to her feet and Luke hurriedly stood and tried to help her, his arm curving around her waist.
“Careful. You could have other injuries.”
“Nah. You broke my fall.” She started brushing off grass and dirt, and, reluctantly, he dropped his arm. “What about you? Are you hurt?”
He could feel a few sore areas that would probably bruise, but otherwise he was fine. “If I hadn’t scared you, you wouldn’t have fallen.” He bent to haul up her bike and inspect the damage. The front wheel was mangled. “Looks like I owe you a new bicycle.”
“Oh, no!” She stared at her crooked front wheel. “Well, maybe it can be fixed. Anyway, I bought it secondhand.” She looked up from the wheel rim to meet his gaze. “So … were you out here waiting for me?”
Her light blue eyes seemed to pierce straight into the deepest part of him. What did she see? “I guess I was.” He swallowed, feeling like a first-class jerk. “I don’t suppose you’d give me a second chance and have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Her brows rose. “I work tomorrow night.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded. “Of course. I understand.” He waved a hand. “Let me help you get this inside.” He picked up the bike by its frame and headed for the condo’s lobby.
“Luke,” she called, not moving.
“Yeah?” He stopped and half turned.
Her teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Come with me on the boat in the morning.”
“IN THE MORNING” actually meant about four hours later. But Luke wasn’t complaining. He wouldn’t have slept anyway. She’d asked for his cell number and given him hers just in case he changed his mind.
But he wouldn’t have.
As they approached a large fishing boat, Kristen cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Permission to come aboard?”
A tall, native Hawaiian stepped out of the cabin, smiled at Kristen and waved them on board. Ho`opono was painted on the hull in bold black letters. Kristen told Luke it was Hawaiian for Faithful. Once they’d boarded, Kristen introduced Kekoa to Luke as her dive partner and boat driver.
Kekoa shook his hand. Firmly. And there was a glint in his eye, as if he were sizing Luke up. Was the guy trying to establish a prior claim? Then he noticed a redhead with long legs sitting on a cushioned seat in the stern of the boat. Kristen introduced her as her friend and coworker, Amy Burrows. Luke vaguely recalled Kristen talking about her friend the other night. But not the particulars. Amy got lazily to her feet to shake his hand with a conspiratorial grin, picked up a basket of muffins then disappeared behind Kekoa into the cabin.
Kristen cast off the stern- and bowlines and within minutes they were in open sea.
Luke tugged his U.S. Army ball cap down tighter against the wind. He hadn’t been out on the