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  “Casual dress? Or something a little fancier?”

  John paused and gave Lauren a once-over. She took the opportunity to interject her own thoughts on the matter. “I’m right here you know. You can talk to me and—”

  “A little fancier.”

  “Perfect. I know just the outfit she should wear. It was nice meeting you, John.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Beth.” He shook the hand Beth offered and once again tousled Ian’s hair. “And you too, young man. You make sure these ladies get home safe now, you hear?”

  “Yes sir!” Ian snapped a salute and Lauren couldn’t help smiling. His arm was all akimbo and his fingers at the wrong angle, but his posture was straight and his grin infectious.

  “Dismissed, soldier!”

  “Come on, Aunt Lauren. Beth says it’s time to go home.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit.

  “Just a minute, Ian…” She turned to talk to John, but he’d already moved away. Instead, she took her frustration out on her best friend. “Beth, how could you? We don’t know anything about him.”

  “And if we did things your way, it would stay that way.” Beth pushed the stroller over the uneven ground, making her way toward the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. Most of the people were leaving now that the battle was done and the museum’s buildings were being shuttered.

  “Lauren, look. You’ve been home two months now and barely get out of that apartment except when the girls get together.”

  “That’s not true. I’m here with Ian today, aren’t I? I’ve taken him to the zoo, to the science museum—”

  “And to the planetarium. Lauren, you’re avoiding the topic.”

  She was and she knew it. Beth’s observation fell too close to the target.

  “Lauren, you won’t even go to the VA hospital to talk to someone. I won’t pretend I understand what you went through over there but I do know what you’re going through over here isn’t any good either.”

  Lauren shook her head. “I know, Beth. I know. I just need more time, that’s all.”

  “Time and a date with Big John.”

  “Beth!” Lauren pretended shock and playfully hit her friend on the arm.

  “Well, you do.” Beth dropped her voice. “And if you’re smart, you’ll let him get lucky on the first date and ride him all the way to mindless fucking!”

  The shock was real this time. “I’ve never heard you use that word…ever!”

  Beth’s smile was full of mischief. “Sarah’s been a bad influence on me.”

  Lauren highly doubted that. Lauren, Beth and Sarah Simpson—Sarah Townshend now—were part of a group of that got together every few weeks just to celebrate their friendship. Lauren and Beth had known each other since grade school. Sarah had joined them in high school where she’d earned the label “Most Pure and Innocent”. With her clean-cut look, big brown eyes and quiet ways, everyone agreed she deserved the title.

  Any retort Lauren intended to make, however, had to wait as the crowd filed through the narrow exit from the museum grounds. Beth went ahead, pushing the baby, and Lauren ended up several people back, holding tightly to Ian’s hand so she wouldn’t lose him in the crowd.

  But then the way opened again and Lauren saw her friend halfway through the parking lot to the car. With Ian in tow, she headed in the same direction. Ian pulled her up short, though, pointing through the trees at the white tents of the Union soldiers.

  “Look, Aunt Lauren. That’s where they sleep. You can see the tents from here and there’s John.”

  In fact, she’d seen John before Ian pointed him out. How could she not? He’d taken off his soiled coat and shirt and stood by one of the tents in nothing but his wool pants. Suspenders hung at his sides, but she noted those only in passing. His back was to her and she could see the broad expanse of shoulders and the strength of muscles as he stretched to reach inside the tent and pull out a clean shirt. A simple motion, really. And yet her breath caught again as he gathered the shirt in his hands and swung it up, dropping the folds of material down to cover those magnificent muscles. He shrugged his shoulders to settle the material and laughed at something someone said. She couldn’t hear the conversation. It didn’t matter. All she could think of was that back and his parting words to her—tying a woman down and making love to her all night long. She’d felt such protection while near those arms, that back. To have him tie her down…and make love to her?

  “Aunt Lauren, come on. Beth’s calling us.” Ian tugged impatiently on her arm and brought Lauren back to the present.

  “Right. Right, Ian. Let’s go home.” Determined not to think of that sexy back or of the fact that she had a date with it, she turned and walked away.

  Chapter Two

  Lauren stretched, sauntering over to the window to watch the rain puddle in the street. After a spate of beautifully sunny summer weather, she welcomed it, especially as it came down as an all-day rain. They could really use this long soaking for the gardens and fields.

  And the rain suited her mood. Since her discharge, Lauren had read, on average, three to five books a week, losing herself in romance novels, fantasy stories, even science fiction. Anything to avoid examining her life and deciding what to do next. Today she’d used the rain as an excuse to curl up on her living room couch, throw an afghan over her knees and sit with a cup of hot tea and an erotic romance novel. She’d finished the entire thing in one sitting and now felt primed and ready for a night on the town with Big John.

  Stepping into the shower, she thought about Beth’s advice to let him get lucky tonight. Overseas, one-night stands and quick flings got everyone through the worst of the stresses and strains and boredom that went along with working in the emergency department of a military hospital. Except she was home now. Did she want another one-nighter? Or did she want to play this one out and see where it went?

  The water splashed over her skin and she ducked under to chase away the solemn thoughts. “One thing at a time, girl,” she cautioned herself. First, she had to get through the date. He might turn out to be a total jerk. If that were the case, she’d leave him at the restaurant, take a taxi home and be done.

  But she remembered his touch on her elbow yesterday, his hand on the small of her back guiding her through the crowd, the overall feeling of protection he emanated and hoped John wouldn’t fall into the asshole category. He might, however, fall into the dangerous one.

  Beth’s instructions as to which dress to wear had been very specific. “The V-neck, black dress with the chiffon-skirt overlay. And wear your red scarf with it, but don’t tie it so you can’t see your cleavage. Just drape it over your shoulders like a wrap.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Lauren had laughed at the time, but as she stood, surveying her figure in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door, she shook her head. The slinky dress showed off every curve, every hollow, every movement. The red scarf, with its oriental patterning, gave her an exotic flair. Beneath her makeup, however, she could still see the dark circles under her eyes that gave away her restless night.

  As she had feared, Saturday’s incident had provoked a nightmare. She’d awoken in a cold sweat, the shouts and confusion of a bomb blast still echoing in her ears. It had taken several hours of mindless TV watching before the images faded and she managed to drift off to sleep again on her living room couch.

  Lauren straightened her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. That was done, she told herself. Nothing but a bad dream now. She’d closed that chapter of her life and moved on to the next, even if she had no idea what the next looked like. The image in the mirror reflected a woman in her early thirties, no gray yet in her shoulder-length brown locks although, if heredity had anything to say about it, those gray hairs should be showing up any day now. She still wore it parted on the side as she had since her high school days, finding the easy style to be versatile enough to wear up when at work or down for a night out.

  Not that she had a job just yet.
Soon. She’d get out and look for one. When she was ready. One that didn’t involve hospitals or doctors or blood. She’d had enough of all three to last her several lifetimes.

  The door chime stopped her reveries, reminding her tonight marked a step out of the shell she’d formed over the past few years. One-night stands might take the edge off in battle zones but did little for the psyche. Despite Beth’s admonition that she just needed a night in the sack, Lauren longed for so much more.

  Her plastered-on smile turned warmer the moment she opened the door and saw John standing there. He stepped inside and filled her hallway with those magnificent shoulders. The way his eyebrows rose when he saw her in the dress Beth had instructed her to wear didn’t hurt any either.

  “Very nice,” he said by way of greeting.

  Lauren dipped a small curtsey. “Thank you. Just a moment while I get my bag.” She left the door open as she hurried into her bedroom for the forgotten tiny purse. Styles had changed while she’d been overseas and all today’s purses seemed huge. She’d found this one at a discount store and had cut off the long strap that was meant to go over her shoulder, all the while missing the pockets of her uniform. Coming back to the door, she picked up her keys from the table and stepped beside him in the hall.

  “All set now.” She locked the door and smiled at him, calling over her shoulder, “And good night, Mrs. Boorman. Don’t wait up!” as they headed for the stairs. Behind them they heard a small snick as a door shut down the hall.

  “Mrs. Boorman keeps track of you, does she?”

  “Of me and most others on the floor. There are six apartments on each of the two floors and I swear, each floor has its version of Mrs. Boorman.”

  He chuckled and his baritone echoed in the stairwell. “Every apartment building has their version of Mrs. Boorman. And that’s a good thing.”

  “Is it?”

  “We all need someone to keep track of our whereabouts. Having people care, even if in a busybody sort of way, gives purpose to our lives.”

  They’d reached the first floor. Only the presence of another couple also making their way out for the night prevented Lauren from continuing the conversation. Lauren peeked through the door, hoping her wrap would be enough. The rain had stopped and the vivid pinks and oranges of the clouds promised a better day tomorrow. Once outside, John opened the passenger door of his SUV and handed her in, so she still didn’t have the opportunity to respond. But as they pulled from the curb and headed into traffic, she picked up the train of thought he’d started in her.

  “Our lives can have purpose all by themselves, you know. You don’t really need others to validate your existence.”

  “Not to validate, but to give it purpose. You know you’re alive, but without others, of what use would you be?”

  Lauren turned to face him, her eyebrows knitted in a frown. “You can’t be purposeful by yourself?”

  Clearly Lauren’s emotions lay close to the surface. Stirring them didn’t take much effort at all. He found himself enjoying the banter, glad for the confirmation that she was more than met the eye.

  “Let’s put it this way. A hermit in the woods needs no one to validate his existence. He knows he’s alive, he knows he breathes and thinks and has things to do.” John paused as he maneuvered around a vehicle parallel parking in front of him. He noted the way Lauren seemed to look in several directions at once as he did so, checking out the cars at the side of the street, the ones in the oncoming lane as well as giving the parking car a very thorough going-over. He continued, however, as if he’d noticed nothing.

  “But he has no purpose in life. He simply exists. Without interaction, a person doesn’t grow as a human being and the world is not enriched.”

  “So the purpose of life is to enrich the world…?” Lauren left the end of the sentence trailing, inviting him to further argue his point. Or dig himself in deeper, he wasn’t sure which.

  “Yes, I’d say that’s part of it. Isn’t Mrs. Boorman’s life enriched by watching yours? She’ll have a juicy bit of gossip to share with the other gossips of the building. That’ll raise her status, and thus, your purpose in life.”

  “My purpose?”

  “To give Mrs. Boorman something to talk about.”

  Lauren’s laugh sounded a little rusty, as if it weren’t something she did very often. He liked hearing it, though. While he didn’t know the particulars of her past, he knew the haunted look far too well. He’d been given a second chance for a real life after serving his country—she deserved the same.

  “So tell me your preference, Miss Lauren,” he drawled in his best Southern-gentleman voice, “do you prefer the nightlife of the High Falls area? Should we dine at one of the upscale nightclubs and dance the night away? Or would you prefer somewhere quieter, with perhaps a lounge lizard playing Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra?”

  “You don’t like Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra?”

  “I do, when played by Billy Joel and Frank Sinatra.”

  “Well, I’m not really a nightclub kinda gal…”

  If John hadn’t glanced at her at that precise moment, he would’ve missed the brief shadow that crossed her features. Her voice, besides the slight pause that could’ve been for effect, gave no hint of anything wrong as she continued. “I could do dinner in a nice restaurant that doesn’t have a lounge lizard in the bar pounding out oldies on an out-of-tune piano.”

  “I know just the place.” A spot quiet and intimate, yet with good food that filled the soul as well as the belly. He took the next left.

  “So you’re a doctor?”

  Her question startled him. “No, I’m a teacher. Why would—” He stopped. “Oh, because of yesterday?”

  “Well, yeah. I’m a—was—a nurse. You set that bone as if you’d done it a hundred times. Speaking of which, how is your friend?”

  “Chuck? He’s fine. He lost a lot of blood, but your good work kept him from losing more. The surgery on the artery went well and his leg will be in traction for a while, but he’ll heal.”

  “Because of your quick action with the compound fracture.”

  “I’ve tended enough of them in my life. Not all legs, but the technique doesn’t really change, whether it’s a finger, an arm or a leg.”

  “But you’re not a doctor.” He heard the amusement in her voice.

  “Nope. Teacher. High school social studies with a specialty in American history.”

  “Civil War in particular?”

  Now it was his turn to grin. “Actually, that’s one of my weak points. But a friend of mine is a reenactor and he talked me in to giving it a try. Said maybe I’d learn something.”

  “And have you?” She swayed as he made the right into the parking lot at Bonacci’s, an upscale Italian restaurant, and John wished he didn’t have bucket seats. He wouldn’t mind feeling her against his arm. On second thought, maybe the bucket seats made better sense.

  “Have I learned anything? Yeah, I learned not to die face up so early in the battle.”

  Her chuckle was worth the slight sunburn he’d gotten. His cheeks still sported a definite glow from his time as a dead man. “I also learned that a Springfield rifle weighs nine pounds and that nine pounds is heavy when carried for an hour while wearing a wool uniform in the sun.”

  He threw the SUV into park and turned off the ignition. “Is Italian all right with you?”

  The small dimples in her cheeks when she smiled gave her an impish look that wasn’t reflected in her eyes and the fading sunlight colored her hair a beautiful auburn. She’d worn it down tonight and the ends brushed over her bare shoulders where her wrap had slipped down. Keeping his touch nonchalant, he brushed her hair back with his fingertips, feeling the smooth warmth of her shoulder. Lauren’s eyes dropped and he thought, If she were a cat, she might purr.

  Instead she smiled up at him, her look steady and measuring. “Italian is fine,” was all she said, the words implying so much more.

  If only he had a clue what.<
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  Lauren smoothed her dress with one hand, adjusted the wrap with the other, and then took the arm he proffered to cross the parking lot to the restaurant. He’d handed her out of the car and every time they touched, she got the same little flutter in her stomach. What was that all about? She was far too old to go all school-girly. A high school history teacher, hmm? She bet there wasn’t a girl in his classes who didn’t sit there all googly-eyed over their hunk of a teacher. Although he hadn’t gotten those broad shoulders from lifting history books, she’d bet her last dollar on that.

  Beth’s advice to bed him tonight came back to her and Lauren took a deep breath of the warm summer air. The next thought, however, did not warm her, but gave her tingles. Tie down a woman and make love to her all night long. Sex with Big John wouldn’t be cuddles and romance.

  She kept her thoughts private as the maître d’ led them to a booth too secluded for her taste, one that afforded a great deal of privacy for the exchange of all sorts of intimate secrets.

  Except she wasn’t sharing her secrets with anyone. Not even Beth knew the full extent of what she’d seen, not only during her time at Walter Reed but when stationed in Iraq. Those were her little secrets and no amount of romance would pry them out of her. No matter how much his blue eyes smiled at her, the corners crinkling up as he laughed at one of her bon mots. No matter how much she liked the dimple in his cheek or the way his strong hands moved in the candlelight. The grace in those movements fascinated her. She’d seen him save a man’s life the day before with those same hands that now held a menu board.

  The lamp overhead burned low and a large jar candle on the table cast a warm light over the creamy white of the booth’s tablecloth. The placemats and napkins of rich burgundy added to the elegant feel. Candlelight sparkled off the water and wineglasses, bestowing a fairy-like touch to the whole scene, and Lauren revised her opinion. Perhaps there could be romance in being tied down and made love to, if done in candlelight.

  “What’s your favorite Italian food?” Lauren asked to veer her mind away from the bedroom. She still hadn’t made up her mind about that yet. Too many unanswered questions about the man across the table from her and food was as good a place to start as any.