Prologue
Cooper sat nervously as she gazed over the crowd. There were more people here than she’d anticipated, though a Bronze Star Ceremony for a local was sure to be the talk of the town and draw even those normally uninterested in current affairs out of the woodwork. An event such as this also garnered national attention, so in addition to the community and local politicians, there were also members of congress and congressional committees in attendance. It was odd to see such a mixed crowd and recognize so many of the people—both personally and professionally—especially when she hadn’t been back in years. Not that she’d planned it that way, but as a news correspondent covering the War on Terror, her assignments rarely kept her on U.S. soil, much less in her old stomping grounds.
Of course, she had cut her journalism teeth covering local news in Montana when she’d been fresh out of college. She’d covered all kinds of stories from festivals to police beat stuff to eventually local politics. The turning point in her career had been when she’d interviewed the former governor regarding his stance on capital punishment when a bill to repeal the death penalty had failed to get the support it needed to pass. Though the story itself hadn’t been the defining moment. In fact, it had nothing to do with it. She shivered at the memory and chaffed her arms as she thought back to the night when she’d reported live from the governor’s mansion, and the cameraman had left to load some of his gear. She’d been alone with the governor’s then-aide— and the current lieutenant governor—when he made an unwelcome pass at her. He hadn’t crossed any official lines, but he hadn’t reacted pleasantly to her rejection. Relief had flooded her when her colleague returned for the last case, and she’d quickly fallen into step beside him as he exited the building. If she were ballsy, she would go over to the scumbag now and thank him since that encounter had been the kick in the pants she needed to leave the comfort of her home state and reach for her dreams. Because if she was going to get hit on in her own backyard by questionable politicians, there was no reason to fear the news outside of Montana.
WWCAD? That had been her internal mantra whenever she felt at a crossroads. What would Christiane Amanpour do? The woman inspired her. She was the reason Caitlin wanted to go into journalism. Within a month of leaving home, Caitlin had landed the job of a lifetime as a correspondent with a major twenty-four-hour news station in Atlanta. She’d paid her dues covering stories on the war, even had been sent on location to the Middle East multiple times, though not right in the action. Always on the outskirts of any real danger tucked neatly within the press corp.
When Caitlin’s gaze landed on a group of tough-looking men entering the room, she quickly dropped it to her notebook as heat tinged the tips of her ears. One of those guys was Hank Patterson. There had been a time in her life whenever he walked into a room she’d swear her heart was going to jump right out of her chest. She’d had it bad for him growing up and should laugh now over her awkward adolescence and silly crush. If only she could tell her fourteen-year-old self that one day Hank Patterson would be in the same room as her and he not be the one making her heart pound like crazy. She was certain if she could actually go back in time and tell herself this, her mini-me would totally ignore her. Caitlin had spent an embarrassing amount of time in her bedroom listening to love songs on her iPod while staring at his picture in the yearbook…and that was when she hadn’t gotten to spend the night with her best-friend and Hank’s sister, Allie, sleeping under the same roof as him.
Oh how times had changed. She wasn’t a little girl pining for a boy. The sight of Hank did nothing to her anymore. Her racing heart and sweaty palms were because of the man standing next to him.
Owen.
Owen Burrell. She knew there was no avoiding him today. Hell, he was the reason she was even here. Her starving gaze wouldn’t be denied either, breaking her mental command not to stare at the man who’d stolen her heart in the desert. God, he still looked perfect, even though he walked with a cane now; his arms rippled as he leaned slightly into it as he moved. She remembered just how strong he was when he lifted her in the heat of passion just a few months ago, and she’d bet her life his battle injury wouldn’t slow him down for a second. She had firsthand knowledge just how determined that man could be when he set his sights on something he wanted.
Several people in the crowd near him came over, shook his hand, and clapped him on the back, probably thanking him for his service to our country. She forced herself to look away, to look back down at her notepad. Where’s my pen? Oh, the irony. She glanced around the floor beside her to check if it had fallen once she’d been seated. It wasn’t there, and she huffed as she grabbed her bag to dig for a new one. She’d bought a new box of them when she’d gotten back to the States and had made a point to shove several in all of her cases and in her car. Determined to never need to borrow another pen ever again. Instinctively, she looked up, knowing her hand would land on one without much effort.
As if he were her beacon, she looked to Owen. And froze.
He stared right at her.
Caitlin swallowed, locked in his hot gaze, instantly taken back to their time in the desert. She couldn’t look away now even if she wanted to, and she didn’t. She’d missed him so much since the last day she saw him…the day everything went to shit, and they’d been ripped apart by circumstance.
He took a step, then another, slowly making his way to the stage without breaking eye contact just yet. She wanted to run to him and help him walk, but she knew beyond any doubt he’d hate her even more if she offered him any assistance. He was a strong man.
He was a proud man.
And now he was a disabled man. All because of her. She should look away, make this easier on him, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Because she knew once this ceremony was over, she would never see Owen Burrell again.