Heat of the Moment. Karen Foley
over the drug store, insisting that it suited his needs.
But returning to Chatham was the last thing Shane wanted to do, not because of his father but because of her. She’d be at her parents’ home, recovering from her own injuries and Shane didn’t want to risk running into her. Too much had happened for them to ever go back to the way things had been when they were teenagers.
He’d first seen Holly Durant soon after he’d moved to Chatham. He’d been barely seventeen and he’d taken a job working at the drugstore. Holly and her clique of giggling, sashaying girlfriends from Chatham Hall, the affluent girls’ boarding school in town where she was a day student, had liked to come into the drugstore for after school. He still probably never would have met her if he hadn’t become friends with her older brother, Mitch. Even then, when he and Mitch had become damn near inseparable and Shane spent more time at the Durant house than he did at his own, he hadn’t really made an effort to get to know Holly. He didn’t want to know her. Just the thought of talking to her had terrified him.
She’d been too pretty. Too mouthy.
Too good for him.
So he’d all but ignored her, telling himself there was no sense in chasing a pipe dream. Look where it had gotten his father. Nope, better to stick with what you knew and stay where you belonged.
And he definitely didn’t belong in Chatham.
He couldn’t imagine he’d be welcome there now, anyway, not after what had happened. Holly’s father was a retired Navy admiral and he and Holly’s mother were keystones of the small community. Shane had nothing but admiration and respect for them and he didn’t think he could bear their censure. After all, he’d let them down.
He’d let her down. He’d failed her.
He should have protected Holly but instead, he’d nearly gotten her killed. He’d read the incident report, which indicated he’d abandoned his position atop the gun truck and had raced through the firefight toward Holly without due cause. He might not be able to recall the attack, but he could guess why he’d done it—he’d wanted to protect Holly. Instead, she’d been forced to protect him and had nearly been killed in the process.
“I’m not going home,” he said darkly.
His father’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean you’re not coming home? I ain’t touched your room. It’s just the same as when you left it.” He indicated Shane’s leg. “’Course, the stairs might give you some trouble, but we’ll manage.”
“I said I’m not going back.”
“Where will you go, then? You got no place else to stay.” His father sounded baffled.
Shane looked away. He was right. He had nowhere else to go. He’d joined the military in order to get away from his father, from Holly, and from Chatham. Since then, he’d never stayed in one place long enough to buy a house or even lease an apartment. The doctors said he couldn’t return to active duty for at least three weeks, maybe longer. He could probably stay at the Marine barracks in Washington, D.C. or the Marine Corps base in Quantico until he recuperated, but the prospect held little appeal for him.
“He’s going to stay at the lake house.”
Both men turned at the sound of the deep voice, but Shane’s father was the first to recover, striding forward to grasp Mitch Durant’s hand and pump it furiously.
“Hell, boy,” he said, “it’s damned nice to see you. How long has it been? Three years? Four? You look good. The uniform suits you. How’s your sister? I hear she saved my boy’s life. I’d like to thank her properly, if she’s up for a visit.”
In his crisp Navy dress uniform, Mitch looked every inch an officer and a gentleman. The double silver bars on his collar denoted his rank as Lieutenant and for the first time, Shane was acutely conscious of the difference in their status. The last he’d heard, Mitch was doing a six-month deployment aboard the USS Lincoln, an aircraft carrier that patrolled Middle Eastern waters. He’d obviously come home to be with his sister and another pang of guilt washed over Shane.
“Holly will recover, sir,” Mitch was saying. “Her arm is busted up pretty good, but otherwise she’s okay.”
He was glossing over her condition, and Shane knew it. By the time he’d regained consciousness and recovered enough to even think about Holly, he’d been told that she’d already been released from the hospital. He’d persisted in knowing her condition and after days of badgering the nursing staff he’d learned that the bone in her arm had been shattered by the bullet, and only a series of metal plates and screws had been able to repair it.
And it was all his fault. If he’d just stayed with his gun, instead of trying to be a hero…
Mitch walked toward Shane’s bed with careful deliberation. He extended his hand and Shane took it.
“Hey, man,” Mitch said. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
To his immense relief, there was no censure in Mitch’s eyes, no recriminations. Only the same genuine warmth and friendship that he had grown to rely on since they were kids.
“You look like hell,” Mitch observed, one corner of his mouth lifting in a wry grin. “But I think it might actually be an improvement.”
Shane knew he referred to the lacerations and bruises on his face. He had seen his reflection for the first time that morning, when the nurses had finally relented and let him take a real shower on his own. They’d seemed disappointed when he’d declined the bedside sponge baths they had been providing him each day since his arrival. To his way of thinking, their dedication to his hygiene had been just a tad too thorough.
Shane felt a reluctant smile tug at his mouth. “Yeah, well you always were jealous of my good looks.” He glanced over at his father and lowered his voice. “So what’s this about the lake house?”
He didn’t really need to ask the question. Mitch understood why he didn’t want to stay with his father and by offering up the lake house, he was giving Shane an excuse not to have to. But Shane had no intention of accepting the invitation.
He couldn’t think about the lake house without his imagination conjuring up pImages** of Holly, slim and naked and sexy as hell, wrapping herself around him like she couldn’t get enough of him. He’d known that she’d harbored a crush on him since she was a teenager. She’d followed him everywhere with that damned camera of hers, snapping pictures of him whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. But he wasn’t boyfriend material, and he definitely wasn’t husband material. He’d seen what marriage to his father had done to his mother. He’d never be able to provide Holly with the kind of lifestyle she was accustomed to, and he wouldn’t be responsible for turning her into a bitter, unhappy woman. Maybe if things had been different…
He could still recall that Christmas Eve, when she’d followed him down to the wine cellar and kissed him. It was the best Christmas gift he’d ever received, only he hadn’t wanted to stop there. He’d wanted to consume her, to push himself into her warmth until she no longer knew where her body ended and his began.
He’d wanted to inhale her, to absorb her through his very pores. But he’d pulled away, and he’d kept away for the next four years. He hadn’t trusted himself to let her get too close. It hadn’t been until the night of her graduation party that he’d let down his guard.
Holly had just graduated from the Naval Academy and her mother had sent him an invitation to help celebrate at the lake house. He was sure she’d done it more out of respect for the friendship he had with Mitch than for any relationship he had with Holly, but he hadn’t been able to resist going. He’d been stationed at Camp Lejeune, so he’d requested a couple of days leave and had driven from North Carolina to the house in southwestern Virginia. He’d needed to know if his memories of her had been accurate.
They hadn’t been.
Holly had been even more