Call To Honor. Tawny Weber

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СКАЧАТЬ the closest thing to seduction wear she owned. The black nightshirt fit just fine, skimming her breasts and hitting midthigh. But it was roomy rather than revealing, and while the cotton was wonderfully soft, Wonder Woman was so wash-worn that she was more a shadow than an actual image.

      She was so not the seduce-the-neighbor-into-a-puddle-of-lust type of woman.

      Hoping that little taste of reality would put an end to the crazy thoughts that kept trying to take hold, she headed down the hall. She stopped to take a quick peek at Nathan. In the glow of the star-shaped nightlight, her son slept with his usual exuberant abandon. Blankets kicked this way, arms and legs sprawled. His face buried in the pillow, his hair stuck up in little tufts. Her fingers itched to smooth it down, to straighten his blankets and settle him into the center of the bed. But he’d wake at the lightest touch. So she simply listened to the gentle sound of his breath, watched the easy rise and fall of his chest. After a long moment, she pulled the door three-quarters shut again and went to her own room.

      The bulk of the furnishings in the house belonged to Andi, including the four-poster bed. But the bedding, oh, that’d been Harper’s single indulgence for herself when they’d moved in. Heavy gold brocade and apricot satin, it was so rich and elegant, it made her feel like a princess. She woke every morning feeling as if she actually belonged in a house this fancy, as if she’d finally earned the right to such sumptuous surroundings. That she’d finally shed the grasping guttersnipe label pinned on her so many years before by Brandon’s mother.

      With that thought firmly in mind, knowing she’d put it off long enough, Harper reached under the mound of decorative pillows on her bed and pulled out the envelope that had come with today’s delivery of a box of memories.

      She tapped it on her palm a couple of times, then set it on the nightstand. She pulled back the blankets, climbed beneath the cool sheets and fluffed her pillow a couple of times before leaning back.

      Then she lifted the envelope again. With a deep breath, she slid her thumb beneath the flap and carefully tore the seal.

      Ms. Maclean,

      You don’t know me but I served with Brandon Ramsey. He was my mentor, my friend and my roommate. He was a hero who deserves to be honored. But the Navy is tying that honor up in red tape. They are trying to make him a scapegoat for a team too incompetent to retrieve his body. That means they won’t send Brandon’s son the benefits he deserves. Instead they’re destroying the legacy your son’s father left behind. I’m sending a few things so his son can appreciate what a great man he was. But that’s not enough. They need to honor Brandon, to show the world what a hero he was. This is a mess. I hope you can help me fix it.

      Keep the Spirit Alive!

      Dane Adams

      Harper read it again, then one more time, then glanced at the rest of the papers. News clippings, write-ups on Brandon’s deeds, certificates.

      She could only sigh.

      This poor guy. Of course the situation was a mess. What else would Brandon leave behind? She didn’t understand the part about the Navy making Brandon a scapegoat. More likely it was just red tape and some sort of military rules or regulations that this guy was upset over.

      It wasn’t until she saw a tear splash onto the paper that Harper realized she was crying. She didn’t know why. Brandon had destroyed all of her illusions years ago when he’d crushed her heart.

      She shoved the unread documents back into the envelope.

      This wasn’t her life. It wasn’t her problem.

      Whatever Brandon had done, whether he’d died a hero or not, it didn’t matter.

      Not to her.

      But tears still came, even as she slowly drifted into sleep.

      Not for Brandon this time. Or even for Nathan.

      But for the girl she’d been, the one who’d believed in heroes.

CHAPTER SIX

      SO THAT WAS Ramsey’s ex.

      Now that he’d seen her up close and personal, all Diego could think was, Hot damn.

      Ramsey might have had a tendency to be an ass, and he might have had serious issues sharing the spotlight. And Diego wasn’t sure if the man had been a good SEAL or a dirty, rotten sonovabitch.

      But he had to credit Brandon Ramsey with having good taste in women.

      Diego had just finished installing cameras and listening equipment around the exterior of her house when he’d seen her heading out the back door. He’d had his cover handy, jumping right into a tai chi workout. She’d been emotional, but she hadn’t acted suspicious. He’d have thought she’d act a little warier if she were dirty. But maybe she was cucumber cool. Maybe Ramsey hadn’t shared the extent of how bad his actions were.

      Or maybe Ramsey was alive, and she knew just how deep in the ugly her ex swam.

      As Diego headed inside his temporary quarters, he brought her image to mind.

      Her eyes were a work of art under strongly arched dark brows. Lushly lashed, they were large in her delicate face. Probably because they’d been a little puffy and red.

      What had she been crying about? Ramsey?

      What little intel they had so far on her showed that she’d lived within her means until about six months ago when she’d moved into the fancy house next door, that her kid attended a pricey private school and that she had a pretty high credit card limit that she charged up and paid in full each month.

      None of that, or his own limited observations, pegged her as the overly emotional type. So he doubted an evening of popcorn and chick flicks had leveled her like that.

      Alive or dead, he’d figured she was crying over Ramsey. The guy had to be in her head right now. If he was alive and dirty, did she struggle with her part in treason? If he was dead and dirty, was she upset to be holding the bag?

      And if he was innocent? Maybe she had simply loved the asshole.

      Diego rubbed his hand over his hair, then shook his head.

      God, what a thought.

      Then again, maybe it wasn’t Ramsey who’d put that upset look on her face.

      Maybe it had been Diego himself?

      He’d kept it friendly, totally nonconfrontational, and the woman had left looking as if he’d punched her in the gut. No accusations, no grilling, not a hint that he was wondering if she was maybe harboring a supposed-to-be-dead, treasonous, backstabbing bastard.

      Maybe he’d been too focused on doing all that to hide the fact that he thought she was hot, but he figured she was used to that. She had to be. The woman looked like a cross between a centerfold, a society princess and a sexy Betty Crocker. The kind of woman who’d wear diamonds and one of those cute white aprons while baking homemade cookies...naked.

      A man would have to be a month dead and incredibly stupid to ignore a woman like that.

      Diego СКАЧАТЬ