Navy Rules. Geri Krotow
He poured the tea with practiced ease.
“I forgot you’re a tea drinker.” She’d grown up in Washington State where coffee was a staple. But Max’s mother was from England and his father a Harvard law professor; tea was the drink of choice in his childhood home. Years ago, Tom and their aviation friends had teased him mercilessly about it.
“Yeah, some things stay the same. Honey?” His voice triggered her awareness of him. And took her thoughts back to the night of the Air Show when he’d whispered in her ear.
“No, just plain. Thanks.” The kitchen counter stool was cold against her back. She had to focus on where she was today and stay away from memories of that night.
She had to get back to the purpose of her visit—telling Max what the fateful outcome of that night had been. Telling him he was a father.
But she couldn’t do it. “You want to have Sam for the whole weekend?” she asked. Nothing about Maeve, only the dog. She couldn’t strike the match that would ignite an explosion of feelings—recrimination, accusation, disbelief, anger.
“If it’s okay with you. Yes, I thought that would keep my therapist happy and cause the least amount of trouble for you.”
“It’s no trouble for me, Max. I come back and forth to the base every week. This is only another ten minutes past there. I can easily bring him over daily instead of leaving him.” She’d never leave Sam with a new client, but Max was hardly new to her.
“We’ll work it out.” He seemed distracted.
Tell him.
“Winnie, I owe you an apology. I was a real shit after the Air Show two years ago. I did try to reach you, but when you didn’t respond I should’ve been more persistent. I was getting ready to go to war, and frankly, that took over my life. But I want you to realize I didn’t take that night casually.”
Her stomach felt as if it had collapsed inward and she fought to keep her demeanor calm and collected. Without knowing it, Max was making her need to take responsibility more painful.
This isn’t about you. It’s about Maeve and her daddy. He deserves to know. Screw up your courage and get it over with.
“Stop it—we’re both adults. No apology needed.” Yet her face grew hotter by the second.
Where was this reaction coming from? She’d decided to keep him out of her life, away from Maeve.
You’re angry at yourself. You’ve kept him from his daughter.
“No, it was totally wrong of me on so many levels. I enjoyed my time with you, and that night, believe it or not, was special to me. But I went back to Florida, and then got the command posting here, the deployment orders to Afghanistan and, well, I figured you might have regrets and not want to talk about it. I never wanted to cause you any pain, Winnie.”
“Max, please, drop it.” She was terrible at lying.
“I tried emailing you, too, but when you didn’t reply, I felt it was probably best for both of us.”
She kept her eyes glued on the steel-gray mug she drank from, but the sense of being watched made her look up and into his dark blue eyes. Shame clawed at her and sent heat up her neck, onto her cheeks. She should have called him. But she’d found out he was going to war. Not a good time to tell someone he had a baby on the way.
“I want you to be able to trust me, Winnie.” He set his cup on the counter and leaned toward her. She felt the warmth that radiated from him, smelled the scent that had imprinted on her mind two years ago.
“I trust you, Max.” That had never been an issue between them.
“With your dog.”
She blinked.
“I don’t have a problem leaving Sam with you. I mean, as far as trust goes.”
“But?”
Winnie shifted on the hard stool This really was a bachelor’s home—it looked slick and modern but definitely lacked comfort.
“The girls and I rely on Sam for our weekends. He’s part of the family.”
“Girls?”
She winced and hoped it was inward.
God, please don’t let me blow this. Not now.
“I have two children, Max. Krista and Maeve.”
His expression went still. She saw his gaze on her left hand, watched as his eyes registered her bare ring finger.
“I didn’t know you were with someone new.”
“I’m not with anyone. But would it be such a shock? It’s been a long time.”
“Of course not. I was surprised you didn’t move on more quickly.” He had his back to her, rinsing out the teapot in the sink.
“Oh?”
“Your marriage with Tom was so solid. Most of the widows I’ve dealt with over the years remarry sooner rather than later if they had a strong first marriage.”
She sighed and forced her hands to unclench the fists they’d become on the granite counter. She felt so stiff, as if warding off an attack, and here was Max giving her a compliment.
“No, I haven’t remarried and I don’t see any reason to. The girls and I have a good life, and the thought of bringing in a third party at this point isn’t on my priority list.”
A moment ago she was ready to tell him. Now she wanted to turn tail and run.
He nodded. “I hear you. When I was Commanding Officer of my squadron, before we deployed, most of my late-night calls, unfortunately, were domestic violence or child molestation—many at the hands of a boyfriend or second husband. It’s scary out there.”
She relaxed her shoulders. This was much safer ground. As much as she’d convinced herself she was ready to tell Max about Maeve, she was nowhere near prepared to deal with the storm of emotions it would inevitably release.
Emotions from a man who’d spent the past months doing everything he could to repress all emotion, just to survive. Who was still recovering from the effects of his own hell.
Stay focused, damn it.
“Yes, it is. I’m not willing to take any risks when it comes to my girls and their safety.”
He sipped his tea and regarded her with steady eyes.
“There’s one thing you haven’t mentioned, Winnie.”
Her breath caught, her mind beginning its all-too-familiar racing. What had she forgotten? How had she left the girls vulnerable? “What?”
“What do you do when you’re lonely, Winnie? Who do you turn to?”
CHAPTER TWO
MAX EYED WINNIE as she clenched and unclenched her fists. He hadn’t forgotten one nuance of her expression. He was going on pure instinct but he knew she was hiding something from him.
He supposed he should be relieved. The blast and resulting PTSD hadn’t erased all his memory. Anything that had to with Winnie seemed to be etched on his brain. Probably on his heart, too, but he had enough soul-searching to do without adding her.
Max hadn’t dared to hope anything would happen between him and Winnie again. But from the minute he saw her get out of her car, thoughts of having her back in his bed flashed across his mind. He swallowed a grin. For months he’d tried to fight off any kind of “flashes,” especially flashbacks to the bombing. Now he’d love to relive one—of Winnie naked and begging him to push harder.
“You seem to be taking your time getting settled.” She looked around the Spartan living room and nodded at the empty bookshelves.