At Your Command. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ certainly wasn’t fair to Zachariah to thrust him into the midst of the secrets and lies that had become Becky’s life this past year.

      In D.C., his proposal had seemed like the perfect out to get her father off her back about settling down with the right young man. Plus, she’d fallen victim to the foolish idea that saying yes would somehow prolong the wild and crazy freedom of their week together.

      But then her mother’s condition had worsened. To be on hand for his wife’s treatment and recovery, Becky’s father had left his advisory appointment in Washington and moved back to Richmond full-time, working as a political consultant and party fund-raiser. Now he was close enough to check on Becky every day. Joy. In person if he wanted. Rapture. He played buddy-buddy with her superiors in the State Attorney’s office more often than she lunched with her girlfriends. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman, for gosh sakes!

      As much as she loved her parents, Becky refused to surrender her independence. She understood her father’s need to control and protect was rooted in love. She understood her mother’s dreams were equally altruistic. But Becky wanted to live, thrive—succeed—on her terms. She’d find a way to be her own person, a crackerjack attorney—and the Owenses’ daughter.

      But none of it was easy.

      Zachariah deserved to know what he was really getting into as her husband—what he probably wouldn’t want to get into if he did know.

      And he should hear it from her—face-to-face.

      But one look at those tanklike shoulders and her hormones had overridden every sensible intention. Swamped by emotions, she’d gotten carried away by the cheering crowd. There was something uniquely inspiring and heartwarming about welcoming home a busload of Marines returning from a war zone. Flags were flying. A band was playing. Her patriotism had kicked in, that was all.

      She didn’t really expect that falling into Zachariah’s arms would make all her stresses go away. Not even for the night or two they’d have together.

      Zachariah Clark was a man, not a myth. He was a good time. Okay, a very good time.

      Be honest, girl.

      He was the best time she’d ever had.

      But he was a fallback plan, a welcome chapter in her life—not the whole book. He was a Marine who’d left her to do his job while she stayed at home and did hers. She suspected he was damn good at that job, or he wouldn’t be given assignments about which she knew so little and he told her even less. But he wasn’t a superhero. Okay, so Captain Clark might be built along superhuman proportions, but he was still just a man.

      Becky breathed deeply—in through her nose, out through her mouth—steeling herself the same way she did each time she stepped up to argue a case before a judge. She could handle this. She could handle him.

      That was the Owens way.

      The bus pulled to a stop, and the liaison officer signaled the waiting families to enter through the gate onto the parking lot. But as the crowd carried Becky forward, an anxious anticipation buzzed across her skin, raising goose bumps. Despite her resolve to keep this reunion at arm’s length and impersonal until she could explain her situation and determine how Zachariah would fit into her life while he was home on leave, Becky found herself hurrying right along with everyone else, trying to spot him the instant he filed off the bus.

      Was he as tall as she remembered? Had he been injured in any way? Would he still overlook the extra pounds that stress and genetics wouldn’t let her lose, and show that same lusty desire for her in his eyes?

      Oh, my. Becky’s breath caught in her chest. Zachariah.

      He was leaner and more tanned than she recalled. Harder somehow, through the squint of her eyes. Still, Zachariah Clark was impossible to miss. Standing a head taller than most of his comrades, he stepped off the bus with a wary alertness, already scanning the crowd.

      “Zachariah!” Damn. Her hand shot into the air again and she waved.

      Play it cool, Owens. Play it cool.

      But his green eyes had already zeroed in on her. They widened with recognition. His rugged features softened with a lopsided grin. “Beckster!”

      Screw decorum. Becky ran to greet him.

      The people between them parted for those broad shoulders and captain’s bars as Zachariah pushed his way through the crowd. She met him halfway. He dropped his duffel bag, and his long, strong arms snaked around her as she leaped. He caught her and swung her around, squeezing her tightly and waking every feminine cell inside her with an instant reminder of just how powerfully built and masculine he was. His mouth crushed down over hers long before the world stopped spinning and her toes touched the asphalt beneath her again.

      Who was she kidding? She wanted this. Talking could wait. Becky wound her arms around his neck and held on, kissing him, consuming him with a hunger that hadn’t abated one whit since D.C. She inhaled his clean, undoctored scent. Absorbed his heat. Clung to his hard strength. Reveled in the evidence of his desire for her, unabashedly swelling against her thigh.

      Rational thought fled as embracing Zachariah reminded her how uncomplicated this was between them. Parts of her body that had lain dormant for eighteen long months roared to life with a frenzy that shook the Owens family tree. Her blood thickened and pulsed. Her breasts tingled with excitement. She lost track of the crowd, of curious eyes, of unpleasant realities—of everything except the desire to burrow beneath this soldier’s starched exterior and wrap herself up in the raw, sensual man inside the uniform.

      She was still reaching for another kiss when his mouth withdrew beyond her reach. Zachariah had come to his senses sooner than she had. With his hands massaging circles at her waist, Becky braced her palms against the ragged rise and fall of his chest and tried to recover her own breath. “Wow.”

      Bending to touch his forehead to hers, Zachariah’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Now that’s what I call a welcome home.”

      Beaming beneath the approval in his low, rumbly voice, Becky twisted her fingers beneath his collar. “You haven’t seen half of what I’ve got planned for you this weekend, soldier.”

      “It’s Marine, darlin’.” He pulled her hips forward into his, reminding her that he was ready for action. “But as long as you’ve made plans, I won’t quibble over…”

      He angled his face as if he intended to kiss her again. But he jerked back, halfway to his destination, leaving her lips puckered with anticipation. His grip pinched hard at her waist and her mouth rounded into a startled, “Ow!”

      Becky twisted, trying to free herself. He’d never hurt her before. Not once. Not even in fun. So what was the deal?

      “Zach…” But her protest died at the face frozen above her. Staring straight over the top of her head. Her own warning jets fired and she quickly glanced behind her. “What is it?”

      Families. Marines. Flags. Laughing. Crying. Hugging. Nothing weird.

      No one watching.

      Becky turned back to the blankness chilling his eyes. “Big guy?”

      Grooves deepened beside his eyes and mouth, twisting СКАЧАТЬ