Navy Christmas. Geri Krotow
Dr. Franklin’s tone reflected compassion. As if he knew Jonas better than most.
“Give me a break, Doc. These folks wouldn’t know a medical emergency if it bit them in the ass. Did you see that last family? They had all three of their kids still on bottles, and the youngest was two. I don’t have time to treat overpampered, overfed, sugared-up kids whose parents need a lesson in nutrition and physical fitness. For heaven’s sake, Doc, I was stopping Marines from bleeding out less than two weeks ago, and the kids I treated had real, often life-threatening, needs. Now you want me to hand out cartoon-hero stickers?”
Serena grasped Pepé’s hand. Enough was enough. Pepé didn’t need to hear any of this.
That’s what she got for snooping like the lawyer she was—she’d exposed her son to a post-deployment tirade he’d had no part of. She bent to his ear.
“Come on, mi hijo. Let’s find out what happened to our appointment.”
* * *
DOC HAD GONE quiet and Jonas wondered if he’d pushed his boss too far. Doc Franklin was an easygoing guy, and Jonas had enjoyed working with him overseas, in a combat zone. In war, they were teammates fighting to save every life, every person who came into their unit. And even back home where Doc was a pediatrician, he was still a naval medical officer. He thought he had the most important job in the world.
“Well?” Jonas prompted.
Doc’s stare should have tipped him off. Too late, the hairs on the back of Jonas’s neck rose and he knew someone was standing behind him.
He mentally groaned and turned around, expecting HM1 Reilly, or worse, the naval hospital’s Commanding Officer.
Instead, he found himself looking into the deepest, darkest mocha-brown eyes he’d ever seen. They sparked with anger and a knowing he couldn’t quite identify... He shook his head to clear it.
The stunning woman in front of him had night-black hair that fell in a straight sheet past her shoulders, skimming around her generous breasts. Breasts that were covered snugly by her purple turtleneck. She didn’t cover up her sensuous figure with the added layer of a sweater or pullover like a lot of women, either. He gave her points for that. Her bottom was just as sexy and he couldn’t miss how her jeans emphasized every curve.
This was a woman who knew her power over men.
He knew it wasn’t some sort of vision brought on by deployment fatigue. But even in his dreams he’d never conjured up an image quite this...distracting.
“Hey, Dr. Franklin!” A black-haired boy stood next to the woman, his enthusiasm for Doc making him bounce up and down while his mother held his hand.
“Pepé, Ms. Delgado, how is my favorite Marine Corps family?” Doc walked next to Jonas and kneeled down to the boy’s level.
Delgado.
Son of a bitch.
Not only had he shown his worst side to Doc Franklin, he’d made a mess of things with the one woman he needed to treat right, the one woman who had what he wanted so badly, what he’d waited to have for so long. He knew more about her than she knew, and they hadn’t met in person yet. Until now.
How much had they heard?
Serena Delgado. And her son, Pepé. The family living in the farmhouse that Dottie had promised him.
Pepé yanked his hand out of Serena’s and ran over to Doc.
“We’re great, Doc! We’re going to Friday Island for Thanksgiving. I might get to swim in the heated pool.”
“It’s San Juan Island, Pepé. Friday Harbor is the town.” Her voice matched her looks—deep and harmonious with a side of sexy.
Serena Delgado kept staring at Jonas as she gently corrected her son. The daggers of light in her eyes were anything but gentle. If he were to guess, she was sorely pissed off.
At him.
And she had every right to be.
“You’re Serena.”
He’d planned to introduce himself in person to her later. After he’d been back long enough to get over his jet lag.
More like get over your wounded ego.
“Yes.”
Her eyes reminded him of an iced coffee. Dark and rich, with a bite.
Jonas held out his hand. “I’m Jonas Scott.”
“I know who you are.” She flicked her gaze at his hand long enough to make her point. She wasn’t going to shake his hand or make this any easier for him. Why should she?
“I’m not sure how much you heard of what I said—I’m sorry and please understand that I was just being a pain in the, um, you know.”
“It’s clear you don’t usually work in pediatrics.” Her tone remained grave but he caught the slight tic at the corner of her mouth. “I hope I’ll be able to control myself. Being a mom and all, I never know when I’m going to get all hysterical and go crazy on you.”
He wasn’t sure if her attractiveness or the fact that she was enjoying his discomfort rattled him more.
“Touché.” They continued to stare at each other.
He’d be turned on by any attractive woman after being downrange so long. It was just his luck that it happened to be the woman who’d upended his whole life.
Unexpected disappointment punched him in the gut.
Even if their shared connection hadn’t been so ugly, so life-changing, he wouldn’t stand a chance with her. Not after she’d overheard his harsh words.
And the boy—Pepé. Jonas didn’t like the twinge of envy he’d felt when Pepé smiled and ran to Doc Franklin. He used to be the practitioner kids loved, the one who loved taking care of kids, but after the past several months of deployment, he couldn’t look at a child and not feel the immediate wash of sorrow that’d become too familiar to him.
“Please call me Jonas. I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you yet. I’ve been home a short time, and I didn’t want to stop by the house without calling first.”
Had she heard him stumble over the word house? Or was it just his imagination that referring to the farmhouse as anything but his or his family’s caused him pause?
She held her hand up to stop his meager attempt at an apology.
“I think we’ve said all we needed to in our emails, don’t you?”
“No, not at all. Six months ago we were both in shock, and an email is never the same as meeting in person.”
He looked over to where Doc was goofing around with Pepé.
“I don’t want to have this conversation now, Serena—can I call you that? Not with Pepé here.”
“I imagine it would be difficult for you to ask me to give up our home while Pepé’s within earshot.”
Frustration made his vision blur as the goddess turned into a witch. An immediate ache in his chest opened up, spewing the ugly visions of children he hadn’t been able to save. Damn his post-deployment emotions. His ability to compartmentalize, the usual method of coping with unwanted emotions and allowing a warrior to focus on a mission, seemed to have evaporated the minute he landed back on Whidbey last week.
“I may deserve that, ma’am, but trust me, I’m not the bogeyman. I understand that you and Pepé have been through a lot. More than your share.”
Those brown eyes remained steady on him. Measuring him, assessing his integrity. He’d had stares from top admirals that weren’t as unnerving.
“As have you. And yes, you can call me Serena.”
Her