Men of Courage II (5 page)

And maybe, if the worst happened, it’d also be a balm to Hamilton in his last moments. He’d always been there for her. He was here for her now. He’d always given to her, and now, she had the opportunity to give back.

The excuses sounded lame even to her, but deep down, she’d known what would eventually happen. And right now, she was just plain too weak to fight his appeal.

H
AMILTON FELT HER STARE
, her interest. Little by little, he was wearing her down. Soon, with any luck and continued patience, she’d admit to her true feelings. She’d tell him she loved him—and then he could tell her about their future, a future of compromise. A future he’d designed just for her.

A future that he felt sure would keep her content.

He glanced into the first small room, devoid of furniture but with a growing stain on the ceiling and a puddle forming on the floor. “I’ve got this one,” he called back to her, aware of her standing immobile right where he’d left her.

Shaken.

Aroused.

When he spoke, his voice was even, his tone level, but his calm was deceptive. The feel of her warmed skin, her stiffened nipples and fast breath had fired him
in return. He had an erection that almost hurt, from months of celibacy and years of wanting. His muscles were stiff, his abdomen rigid with restraint.

Walking away hadn’t been easy, but damn it, he had his pride, too, along with his own share of fears.

Even as a child, Liv had been bright and observant, so she knew Weston was the closest thing to a father he’d ever had. His own parents hadn’t factored heavily into his life, more prone to ignoring him than caring for him. If it hadn’t been for Weston and the air force, Hamilton knew he would have been alone in the world, and probably more in trouble than out of it.

He loved Liv, more than anything life could offer, but the air force had become a vital part of him, harnessing the wildness and refining his leadership instincts. It gave him a purpose that meshed with the most intrinsic part of his personality. And flying fed his soul. It was as simple as that.

If Liv refused to see it…He shook his head, unable to abide the idea of leaving himself open to cold rejection. He knew, deep down inside, that she cared for him, too. But with her refusal to admit it, how could he possibly throw his heart at her feet? How did he know if she loved him enough?

He needed her to confide in him. He needed her trust. And then he could trust her in return.

After placing three buckets beneath drips that left
large, dark wet spots on her ceiling, he reentered the hall. Liv was in the room across from him, another small bedroom with no furnishings.

Seeing her on her knees, mopping up a spill before placing the bucket beneath it, brought out all his protective instincts. Ham rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve his tension. “Liv?”

She went still, then glanced up. Eyes wide and watchful, and full of some indefinable emotion, she waited.

“It occurs to me,” Ham said, “that you only have one bedroom.”

Slowly she came to her feet. A look of expectancy replaced the wariness in her expression. “Yes.”

Not yet, Ham cautioned himself. If she wanted him physically, it’d help to ease her into an emotional commitment. “I can camp out on the couch.”

She said nothing to that.

“But is it all right if I store my stuff in this room? I don’t want to leave it cluttering your foyer.”

“All right.”

So enigmatic. Ham crossed his arms over his chest. “You sleep downstairs?”

“In the only furnished bedroom, yes.”

Close to the couch. But close enough?

She said abruptly, “Jack is spooked.” Moving past Ham, she led the dog back toward the stairs. “When I sit with him, he feels better.”

But rather than follow her, Jack paused at Ham’s side and whined.

“Come on, Jack,” Liv said, but still the dog hesitated. Ears back, head low, he whined again.

At least the dog was on his side, Ham decided. “I guess he wants us all together.”

Liv opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Hiding his smile, Ham patted the dog. “Let’s go, boy. The lady is waiting.”

Jack followed Ham downstairs, then back upstairs again as he stored his things in the spare room. “I should change your name to Shadow,” Ham teased the dog. But when he saw Liv standing at the window, watching the pouring rain, his heart went out to her. She appeared so dejected, so…alone, that he felt guilty having her dog’s attention.

A loud boom of thunder shook the house, and in a flash, Jack was at her side. Liv’s nurturing nature took over and she spent several minutes calming the dog. Ham absorbed the picture she made, gentle and sweet and patient. He could easily see her with a classroom full of kids, relating, guiding, teaching.

He could also see her with a baby in her arms—
his
baby. She would be a phenomenal mother. He imagined the four of them, himself and Liv, Jack and a toddler, settled into the cozy little house in Colorado Springs. She’d be happy there, because he’d make it so.

He’d only seen the house in Internet ads, but as soon as he’d been approached with the offer to be a permanent professor at the academy, he started weighing the pros and cons.

God knew he’d miss being squadron commander, but he’d be promoted to colonel. He’d stay on active duty longer, but they’d never have to move away from the Air Force Academy. The two years it’d take for him to get his Ph.D. would be trying, but he’d stay on full pay during that time, and if Liv knew the end result, that they could be the kind of family she wanted…

Once he convinced Liv, they could check out the house together. She’d enjoy buying new furniture, or planting flowers.

The doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of their food and releasing Ham from visions of a perfect future. He answered the door while Liv got out dishes and drinks. She knew him well enough that she automatically poured him milk with his dinner.

Jack curled up beneath the table, determined to stay close but mannered enough not to beg or make a nuisance of himself. The entire setting felt cozy, especially when the lights flickered and then went out. At the dinner hour, it normally wouldn’t have been so dark. But the storm-filled sky, thick with black clouds, lent the sense of midnight.

Liv stilled with her glass of iced tea near her mouth.

“Do you have any candles?”

She swallowed her bite of fried cabbage and nodded. “In the drawer by the sink. Matches are there, too.”

Ham located a fat scented candle and set it in the middle of the table. Liv watched him as he lit it. Soft illumination danced across her features, and he felt prompted to say, “Does this remind you of that time in California, when an earthquake took out the electricity?”

Memories surfaced, and she gave a small smile. “Daddy was off somewhere, but you came over to stay with me until the worst of it was over.”

Ham remembered that he hadn’t wanted to leave at all, even hours later when things were again calm. But she was young then, and he’d had too much respect for her and her father to ever overstep himself.

“You denied being scared.” He grinned. “You were what? All of eighteen then—a woman, but still so young. Cute as hell. And so damned independent I thought you were going to throw me out in the middle of the quake just to prove you didn’t need me there.”

Chagrined, she rubbed away her smile. “I didn’t want you to know how nervous I was. Daddy didn’t like it when I gave in to fears.”

Reaching across the table, Ham took her hand. “Everyone gets afraid sometimes.”

“Not you.”

He half laughed until he realized she was serious. Then he shook his head. “Hell, honey, I live with fear.”

Her somber eyes filled with sympathy. “Because of the danger in what you do?”

“No.” Being totally honest, he said, “When I’m in a plane, instincts kick in. There isn’t time for fear, because I’m too busy reacting. I’m well trained, the air force has seen to that, and there’s a level of arrogance in knowing how qualified I am, sort of a feeling of invulnerability.”

She watched his face and her fingers tightened on his. “You love it, don’t you?”

Not like he loved her.
“It’s hard to explain, Liv. What I do…It’s a calling to protect and serve my country, a calling I’ve felt compelled to follow since I was a kid. Just as you feel the need to teach. The air force is me, and I’m the air force.”

He felt her need to understand. It was there in her gaze, in the way she clutched at his hand, the sadness in her eyes. “I guess I have enough fear for both of us.”

Ham wanted her love and loyalty. Perhaps he should start by giving to her first. “So you want to know what does scare me?”

“What?”

He leaned closer. “You.”

“Me?” Her laugh was nervous and self-conscious.

“Yeah, you. You’re the most important person in the world to me, Liv, don’t you know that? You’re my family, and my friend. You’re the woman I think about when missiles and antiaircraft fire are thick. I fear leaving you alone. I fear never seeing you again.”

Her bottom lip began to quiver, and tears again threatened, breaking his heart. She was so precious to him, and she didn’t even realize it.

Damned emotion clogged his throat and he paused to swallow. Deliberately lightening the mood to spare her, he said, “Look at all this good food going to waste. Let’s finish up because I have something I want to show you.”

She accepted the change in topic gratefully. Pulling her hand away, she bit her lip and nodded. But then she paused, raising her face to his. “Ham?”

His heart pounded. “Yeah, baby?”

The seconds ticked by, and the tension grew.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “for being here with me.”

“Always.” He touched her chin, smoothed her jaw.

Her smile wavered, softened. With reluctance, she gave her attention back to her food.

When their plates were almost empty, she asked, “So. What are you going to show me?”

Another touchy subject, but one that couldn’t be avoided. “Before we see the funeral director tomorrow,
I wanted to go over your dad’s belongings with you. I took some photos off his desk that might be nice to have at the ceremony, some commendations, too. The photos might be nice to display.”

“Daddy would like it to be a big event.”

Ham nodded. “Regular military funeral. Bugler, twenty-one gun salute…”

“The works.”

“Yeah.” He watched her face, and felt her pain. “You’ve been to military funerals before.”

“Too many.” She gripped her hands together. Knowing that many military members would attend the service, she said, “Whiteman is an eight-hour trip, at least. Will that cause a problem with the funeral set so soon?”

“A tanker will bring the wing commander and most of the men from your father’s office. The word will get around, so there’ll be others, too. Those he’s served with who are at other bases, and local retired military and their families—they’ll all want to pay their respects. Military folks are tight, you know that.”

“Yes.” She drew a breath. “I’ve never handled a funeral before.”

Hating to see her tension, Ham reached for her hands, drew her up from her seat. “Weston died on active duty, Liv, so the air force will provide funeral benefits and arrange the burial ceremony.”

She turned her face up to his, brave and beautiful and his—if only she’d realize it.

“Even now, the air force plays such a big role in his life. But this time, I have to admit that I’m grateful.”

More thunder rumbled. Rain lashed the windows and lightning flickered. He cupped her cheek. “I told you, we’re one big family.” And then he kissed her—and he didn’t want to stop.

L
IV KNEW SHE DIDN
’
T WANT
to sleep alone that night. Ham was right—it didn’t matter if she admitted how she felt or not because no one would ever replace him in her heart.

She made up her mind as Ham struggled to rein in his hunger. Not once in the many years she’d known him had he ever shirked what he considered his duty. He was honorable to the core, dedicated to caring for others, driven by a deep and patriotic love of his country.

How could she not love him?

His forehead touching hers, he whispered, “I shouldn’t keep doing this.”

“This?” Liv stroked her hands over the soft cotton T-shirt he wore, across his chest, up and over his shoulders.

“You aren’t thinking straight.”

She laughed, feeling lighthearted for the first time since he’d arrived at her classroom. “Does that mean my thinking is bent?”

He squeezed her. “It means I picked a bad time to keep coming on to you.”

“I think it’s the perfect time.” And she went on tiptoes to kiss him again.

Ham groaned, taking control of the kiss, pulling her into the hard lines of his body. Their breathing soughed in the quiet night, vying with the violent storm.

He wrenched away. “Liv, wait….”

“Why?”

He caught her face and held her still. Eyes smoldering with heat, he asked, “Do you love me?”

Liv recoiled from the idea of giving away so much. If she told him her deepest feelings, that she’d loved him forever and probably always would, there’d be no going back. She knew Ham, knew how he thought and how determined he could be.

She licked dry lips. “I want to make love with you.”

Something in his expression chilled and became distant. He stepped back. Every bit the officer, he held himself straight and proud—yet somehow wounded.
“Let’s sit down and I’ll sort your dad’s things with you.”

“Hamilton…”

“You need time,” he insisted. “Time to deal with your loss and to come to grips with your feelings. You need sleep. You need…” Unblinking, he stared at her, then shook his head. “You need me to stop pressing you. Come on.” He picked up the candle with one hand and reached out for her with the other.

Given that she had electric heat, the house had quickly begun to cool during the power outage. The spring storm had brought with it chilly temperatures and window-rattling wind. She wore a sweatshirt, but Ham wore only a T-shirt. He didn’t look the least bit uncomfortable though.

The moment they left the table, Jack scooted out from underneath and chased after them. Candlelight danced and spread out, leaving dark shadows in her small family room. Once Liv sat on the couch, Jack dropped across her feet with a lusty doggy sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but she enjoyed his nearness as much as he enjoyed being near.

Ham fetched a box that he’d left on the table in the foyer. Sitting beside her, he opened it and pulled out the framed photograph on top.

“This stayed on your dad’s desk, in the lefthand cor
ner. It was as much a part of his office as his chair and bookshelf.”

Liv recognized the five-by-seven photo as one Ham had taken of her years ago. It was only months after her mother had passed away. She’d been baking, determined to make her father a “welcome home” meal that he’d never forget. Long curls, damp with sweat, hung in her face, and her clothes were limp and disheveled.

“That night, Daddy told me I was as good a cook as my mother.” She smiled, remembering one of the good times. “He didn’t even complain that the meatloaf was dry or the rolls a little burned.”

“He bragged to me that you were one hell of a fine cook.”

Laughing, Liv said, “I bet that’s exactly how he put it, too.”

Ham’s arm slid around her shoulders, comfortable and familiar. “Word for word.”

Liv challenged him with a teasing look. “Is that why you had it framed for him?”

Caught off guard, Ham stalled, and finally rolled one shoulder with a guilty grin. “He liked the photo. Whenever anyone came to his office, they’d look at that picture and ask about it. Weston would hold it with pride and tell everyone that you were his daughter.”

Desperately, Liv clutched at this small proof of affection. “Did he talk about me much?”

“Truthfully? He wanted me to court you.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out. “
Court
me?”

“He considered me worthy of his one and only daughter.” Ham pulled out another photo. “This one sat on his bookshelf. He’d always point out what a handsome couple we made, and believe me, your dad didn’t have an ounce of subtlety.”

Skeptical, Liv accepted the smaller, three-by-five shot of her with Hamilton at a military function. She smiled at the camera, but Hamilton stood in profile, his absorbed gaze on Liv’s face. Seeing the picture, and his expression, actually made her blush. “I don’t recognize this one.”

“I have no idea who took it. But it’s been in your dad’s office for years.”

“What did you tell him when he…well, talked about us?”

Stretching out his long legs, Hamilton settled back in the couch and took the picture from her, examining it in minute detail. “I told him the truth. That he’d soured you on the military.”

Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t.”

“Not in so many words. But I explained that you weren’t interested in an officer. I told him you wanted a regular nine-to-five kind of husband. One who came home every night instead of being gone months, sometimes years, at a time.”

Fascinated, Liv prompted, “And he said…?”

“That you were just like your mother.” He tore his attention from the photo and settled it on her instead. “He said that a lot, honey. Always with affection, never complaining. He loved her, just as he loved you.”

That left Liv speechless.

Ham smiled. “And then he’d tell me I should damn well work harder at convincing you.”

Before Liv could dwell on that too long, Hamilton drew out a variety of medals. “I figured you’d want these.”

“They’re all his?”

“All the ones I could locate before flying here. He might have more tucked away in his quarters. I’m sure he has more ribbons.” Ham pulled out five Meritorious Service Medals, four Air Force Commendation Medals and a Bronze Star.

He gave her a long look. “In all my years in the air force, I’ve only known two Bronze Star recipients.”

New emotions swelled inside her, crowding out the resentment. In a reverent whisper, she quoted, “Given for acts of heroism and meritorious achievement.”

Holding up the medal, Ham said, “Weston was definitely a hero.” He laid the small badge in Liv’s hands, curled her fingers around it. He, too, dropped his tone to one of solemn respect. “Your dad did some pretty impressive things during wartime. He wasn’t always
there when you and your mother needed him, but a lot of soldiers relied on him and he never let them down.”

Liv held the medal to her heart, overwhelmed, touched, forgiving.

Watching her, Ham flattened his mouth. “Plenty of men are willing to risk their necks to save the people they love. But Weston did it for people he didn’t even know.”

Liv absorbed the enormity of her father’s contribution, how important he’d been to so many.

And Hamilton was no different.

He didn’t think twice about the risks he took. Instead, he embraced them gladly, determined to serve the country he loved, the people who relied on him, without ever seeing himself as a hero.

Her heart expanded, and with it, her love. She put the medal back in the box and laid a hand on Hamilton’s forearm. “I should have understood.”

“Maybe,” Ham said, “but Weston should have included you as one of his priorities. He didn’t make it easy for others to get close to him. He was always reserved, very self-contained. Some men are that way, whether they’re career military or not. Some women, too, I imagine.”

Liv stared at him with new eyes. He was so selfless, so caring of others, that he didn’t realize her new understanding extended to him. “You’re right, of course.”

“You knew my parents, Liv. They weren’t very caring, but neither were they military. I keep telling you, one doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Her smiling agreement finally registered, and his brows pulled down with suspicion. “What did you say?”

Liv laughed, a little giddy, a lot in love, more at peace than she’d been in years. “I’m sorry. Now I’ve confused you, haven’t I?”

His mouth opened, but then slowly closed. He surveyed her warily. “I would never deliberately hurt you, Liv. You have to believe that.”

“I know.”

Neck stiff, shoulders rigid and eyes direct, he added, “But I can’t leave the air force.”

Accepting, Liv nodded. “I know that, too.” She lifted the box of medals and photos from his lap and set them on the table.

“Liv…”

Rather than hear whatever he planned to say, she rose to her knees, leaned into him and cupped his face—and kissed him silly. It wasn’t often that she took the initiative, but for once, she wanted to put what Ham wanted, what he needed, first.

She’d been incredibly selfish, but no more.

At the prodding of her small tongue, he groaned and
gave in. Gathering her across his lap, he returned her kiss with enthusiastic heat. Until she pulled his T-shirt out of his jeans.

Breathing hard, he rasped, “Hold up, Liv.”

“No.” Slipping both hands beneath the material, she stroked his hot, hard flesh, the crisp hair on his broad chest, over his impressive pecs. He felt
so
good, so much a man.
Her man.
Being with him felt right.

It always had. “Hamilton? What time is it?”

He went blank, a little dazed, then he glanced at his watch. After clearing his throat, he growled, “Nineteen hundred…”

Laughing, Liv caught his wrist and turned it so she could see the dial. “A little after seven o’clock. Hmm.” Slanting him a coy look, she said, “Close enough to bedtime.”

And truthfully, he had to be tired. God only knew how much running he’d done since the report of her father’s death. Knowing Hamilton, he’d probably moved heaven and hell to arrange things to his satisfaction. The emotional toll was tough enough, but he had to be physically exhausted, too.

He held himself very still. “Bedtime?”

“Yes.” Working up her nerve, Liv spoke straight from her heart. “Make love to me, Hamilton.”

He squeezed his eyes shut—then caught her hands and held her still.

“Ham?”

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

“I know what I
want
to do to you.”

He drew a breath, impaled her with his gaze. “I need everything, Liv.”

Her heart beat so hard, it made her tremble. “Everything…meaning?”
Did he want to marry her?

“Tell me you love me.”

Emotions warred against one another, hope and tenderness, disappointment and desire. She wanted to tell him, she really did, but the words strangled in her throat.

“Admit it, Liv.” And then, almost desperate he implored,
“Tell me.”

What did it matter? He obviously already knew. In the long run, it wouldn’t change anything. As he’d said, he couldn’t leave the air force, and she couldn’t survive as a military wife, alone and lonely, always filled with worry.

But in the short run…?

They could make memories hot enough to carry them through the endless winter nights to come. At the moment, that’s what she wanted most. Tomorrow, next week, next year—every long night that she spent without him—could be dealt with later.

Meeting his fierce gaze, Liv nodded. “Yes. I love you, Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton Wulf.”

The change in him was astounding. One moment she was on his lap, and in the next, he’d blown out the candle and stood.

Holding her in his arms as if she weighed nothing at all, he asked, “What about Jack?”

The dog stared up at them anxiously.

Even now, with lust bright in his eyes, Ham had the consideration to think of her pet. Could there be a more big-hearted, strong, compassionate man anywhere?

Liv wanted to melt. She wanted to change the future so she could have him forever. She wanted him over her, inside her, loving her as much as she loved him.

“Jack often sleeps under my bed when it storms. Of course, I’ve never had a man sleeping with me while he was under there, but—”

Hamilton squeezed her for that admission, his expression wild with possessiveness. “C’mon Jack,” he ordered in a voice rich with haste. “Time for bed.”

The dog bounded up and loped after them as Ham strode for her bedroom. She’d had several years of buildup to this moment, which left her already primed and anxious and prepared.

Teasing Ham’s neck with her fingertips, she asked, “What if he won’t settle down with us doing…you know?”

Ham watched her with deep concentration while his
long strides drew them nearer and nearer to her bed. “He might as well get used to me now.” And then, after a firm kiss, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Liv started to object, to explain that the dog didn’t need to get used to him because he’d be heading back to the air force in two weeks—back to his duty, and out of her life.

But Ham took her mouth again, and didn’t stop kissing her until he stood beside her bed. He laid her flat on her back, took precious seconds to rid himself of his boots and socks, and then his weight pressed her down and his hand slid inside her sweatshirt, boldly cupping a breast.

Liv forgot whatever she’d wanted to say.

P
RESSED BY URGENCY
, by the endless fantasy and unrelenting desire to make her his own, Ham covered her breast…and groaned.
God, she felt good.
His thumb found her nipple, already peaked, achingly tight, and he gently stroked, aware of the ripple of pleasure that ran through her. He felt almost violent in his need.

He deepened his kiss, savoring the taste of her on his mouth, the moist silky heat of her curious tongue. His hips pressed down and in and she gave a high, female moan of pleasure.

“Open your legs.”

She did, anxiously spreading them wide so that his
hips settled between and he could feel her heat cradling him. She lifted up, increasing the pressure, moving, stroking him.