Gabriel Donovan frowned at his reflection in the full-length mirror, then glanced down at his ten-year-old daughter, Charlotte. She stood in front of him, her gaze intent on her task of knotting his tie. “Why the hell am I doing this again?”
Char frowned her disapproval and darted a glance at him. “You owe the swear jar a dollar, Dad. And you’re doing this because you need a date. It’s time.”
With a heavy sigh, he stuffed a hand in his right front pocket, pulled out a dollar bill, and held it out to her. The jar was full already, and the money in there was mostly his. Some example he was setting.
Char stuffed the bill into the pocket of her jeans and resumed knotting his tie. He turned back to his reflection, frowning at the dress shirt and tie she’d insisted he wear. At least he’d won the jeans argument.
He let his shoulders slump. The whole evening set out before him exhausted him, and it hadn’t even started. “I am so not cut out for this. I miss your mother.”
Life with Julia had been simple. Reliable. She’d been a constant. He’d been cocky enough back in college to think he was good with women, but he hadn’t dated in…hell, before Char was born. He was so far out of practice he might as well be a gangly, uncertain teenager all over again.
Char looped one end of the tie over the other and tipped her head back to look up at him. “I miss her, too, Dad, but you promised you wouldn’t be sad forever.”
While her face remained stoic, her scowl set firm, he didn’t miss the worry and sadness that crept into her eyes. Julia’s death had been hard on them both but on Char most of all. His baby sister, Molly, was right. A little girl needed her mother. That was also partly why he was going on this date. They both could use a change.
He cupped Char’s chin in his palm. She looked like a younger version of Julia. The same auburn hair, a shade darker than her mother’s. The same oval face and cute, up-turned nose. All she’d gotten from him were her hazel eyes and unruly curls. Still, every time he saw her, his chest ached. He wasn’t ready to start dating again. Marriage and family had suited him fine. “You’re too old for your own good, you know that? You shouldn’t be taking care of me. You should just be a kid.”
Char was smart like her mother, too. She got straight As in school with little effort, constantly had her nose in a book, and since Julia’s death, seemed to have made it her mission to take care of him. It’s what they’d done since Julia got sick, how they’d gotten by: they took care of each other. Her enthusiasm for his dating again came from a more basic need, though. She wanted him to stop being sad.
At least that’s what she’d said last week when he’d finally given in and agreed to his sister’s cockamamie scheme. The problem was, he wasn’t sure how to stop being sad. How do you stop missing someone when you’d give both arms to have them back?
The heavy emotion in Char’s eyes lightened, and she shot him a mischievous smile. That was something else she’s gotten from him—her playful nature. “Somebody has to take care of you. We’d eat out every night if I didn’t make you cook.”
A twinge of guilt of tightened his stomach. She was right, of course. He couldn’t cook to save his life. Julia had always taken care of that. Along with a host of other things, like laundry and grocery shopping. Even after his parents’ deaths, Molly had taken care of what he’d always considered the “girl stuff.” He hated the grocery store. It was too damn crowded and too damn bright. If you asked him, the drive-through was just easier all around.
“I don’t know what you have against takeout. Most kids your age could live on the stuff.” Gabe turned back to his reflection and poked a finger into his collar, tugging at the tie cinched around his neck. “Is the tie really necessary?”
He hadn’t worn one since he’d gotten out of the service four years ago. Spending most of his day at the custom motorcycle and repair shop he co-owned with one of his best friends, Marcus Denali, he had his hands in engine grease the majority of the day. Anything more than a T-shirt would only end up grimy anyway.
Char slipped one end of the tie into the loop she’d made. “Yes. It’s nice. Plus, it’s blue. That’s what they said, right? You have to wear blue so she’ll know it’s you.”
He sighed and stared at his reflection. For the first time since Julia died three years ago, he had a freakin’ date, from a service, no less. One of his mechanic’s wives owned the exclusive dating service Military Match. Trent Lawson, a fellow SEAL who did most of his custom detailing, had used the place with good results. He and his fiancée, Lauren, were getting married in three months.
“Besides, I like this tie. Mom gave it to you for Christmas before she died. It’ll be good luck.” Char readjusted his tie and patted his chest, then stood back to eye her handiwork. A self-pleased smile etched across her face. “There. You look perfect.”
He shook his head. “I must be out of my mind.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Three years alone, and he still wasn’t ready for this. He was, however, lonely. He missed the simple things, like not having to sleep alone and waking to warm, soft curves. Getting married again, though, he flat out wasn’t ready for.
What he hoped for tonight he hadn’t a clue. Companionship? To get laid? Someone else to talk to besides Char and Molly and the guys at the shop? Hell. He’d figure out the rest when he got there. At the very least, it would get Molly off his case.
The doorbell sounded through the house, and Char’s brows shot up, her eyes widening with excitement.
“That’s Aunt Molly!” She darted out of the room, her feet thumping down the hall.
Gabe turned from the full-length floor mirror to the picture on the dresser beside him. He touched the glass, tracing the curve of Julia’s forehead with his thumb. She’d been healthy then. Alive and vibrant. Her smile still took his breath away. “Wish me luck, Jules.”
He drew a deep breath, trying his damnedest to ignore the nausea swirling in his stomach, and followed Char. Emerging into the front room of the house, he found her in the foyer with Molly. Since Julia’s death, Molly had taken to helping him with Char. He was grateful to her on that front, because he was in over his head. He hadn’t a clue how to raise a little girl. If it were up to him, Char would be in the shop with him, learning how to take apart an engine. Julia had always insisted little girls needed a feminine role model. Luckily for him, Char adored her aunt Molly.
Molly glanced up as he entered the living room. A slow smiled curled across her face, amusement gleaming in her eyes. “Wow. Look at you. Hot stuff.”
He glared at her as he approached the foyer. “Stop.”
Molly’s smile drooped. She turned to Char and tousled her hair. “Why you don’t go pack your stuff for the weekend. Give me a minute with your dad.”
Char shot him a sideways scowl. “Cheer him up, Aunt Molly. He’ll ruin his date.”
With a shake of her head, Char strode for her bedroom. Once she was out of hearing range, Molly turned worried eyes on him.
Gabe held up a hand, stopping the encouragement he’d heard a dozen times since she’d taken it upon herself to sign him up for this date. “Don’t start with the ‘this is good for you’ crap. I get it. You’re both right. It’s time. But I don’t have to like it.”
Molly let out a heavy sigh, then, just as suddenly, flashed an over-bright smile. “At the very least, hope you’ll get laid, then.”
His heart stalled, and he darted a panicked glance behind him. Char’s soft voice echoed up the hallway as she sang some upbeat boy-band tune. Satisfied she hadn’t overheard Molly’s blatant statement, his heart resumed its beat. Gabe turned back to his sister and frowned.
“Jesus, Moll, keep your voice down.” He shouldn’t be surprised she’d said it, though. That was Molly in a nutshell—bold as brass and doing as she pleased. He couldn’t stop his cheeks from blazing all the same. “I don’t need advice on getting laid from my sister.”
She had the nerve to grin at him. “Apparently, you do, because you’re not doing it.”
He glared at her. “Moll…”
She laughed and held up her hands. “All right, all right. At the very least, try to have a good time? Don’t scowl, and for crying out loud, don’t sit there brooding.” She cuffed his shoulder and winked at him. “You had a personality once. Try to dig it up, huh?”
He let out a heavy sigh. She was right. More times than he cared to admit, he’d bitten her head off for worrying about him too much. Hell, the guys at the shop had pointed out the same thing, how snappish he’d become. Marcus had teased him about it the other day, when he’d lost his temper with a supplier over parts that hadn’t come in on time. “You need to get laid, man.”
Also why he’d found himself with a date tonight. Because Marcus was right. He hadn’t had sex with anyone but his left hand since Julia got sick, nearing on four years now. Hell. His freakin’ balls were blue. The thought of warm feminine curves against him made his cock twitch in his jeans. If all he got out of this date was that, he’d consider this whole experience successful.
Char came running back to the door, her backpack stuffed full and slung over her shoulder. She hurled herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “Bye, Daddy. I love you.”
He bent to kiss the top of her head. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Make sure you mind Aunt Molly, okay?”
She leaned back, hazel eyes wide and anxious and filled with too much worry. “Promise you’ll try to have a good time? Mom made me promise that I wouldn’t let you sit around and be sad. So you have to promise.”
A thick lump formed in his throat. Slayed. Completely, one hundred percent slayed.
He brushed the curls out of her face. “I promise I’ll try. Now go.”
She hugged him again, then slipped her hand into Molly’s.
Molly tossed him a friendly smile. “I’ll have her back Sunday morning, as usual.”
He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Thanks, Moll. I really appreciate your help, you know.”
Warmth bloomed in her eyes, her smile softening. “I know.” Then she punched his shoulder and pursed her lips. “Now you have to promise me you’re at least going to try to like her.”
He couldn’t help the soft laugh that left him. Despite being five years younger, she had a definite motherly streak. An annoying one.
He opened the front door and nodded at the porch beyond. “Will you guys get out? I’ll never get there with you two hanging around nagging me to death.”
Molly rolled her eyes but ushered Char out all the same, calling to him as she made her way to her car, parked at the curb. “I’m going to call you tomorrow morning. You’d better not answer.”
He shook his head and closed the door. Alone in the deafening silence, he heaved a sigh. The sickening knots in his gut twisted all over again. The “fun” of this particular dating agency was supposedly in the initial meeting. They set up the time and place, and you simply showed up. All he knew about his date tonight was that she was a blond attorney and she’d be wearing something blue. Hence the damn tie.
According to Karen, the service’s owner and his mechanic Mike’s wife, the idea was to make the initial meeting seem more like a chance encounter. Add a little mystery. Trent, however, had told him all it really meant was that he’d have a blind date. Trent had loathed that aspect and had offered the information almost as a warning.
Gabe glanced down at his sneakers and stroked a hand down his thigh. At this point, he wasn’t above a blind date for his first venture into the land of dating again. He only hoped she wouldn’t mind that he was missing the lower part of his left leg.
* * *
Seated on a hard park bench, looking out over the waters of Lake Washington, Stephanie Mason’s knee bounced with the nervous anticipation flooding through her. She glanced down at herself, straightening her jacket. A half hour ago, when Lauren, one of her two best friends, suggested she wear this cobalt-blue halter top, it had seemed perfect. A chance to shed the bland suits she wore to the law firm every day, sexy without being too revealing. Now she had her doubts. It seemed too tame.
Were she going to a club, she’d have worn something a little more revealing. She wasn’t a stranger to the dating scene. When she had needs, she knew how to flirt, how to dress to lure a man’s attention. Lauren, though, the more sensible one of their trio, had pointed out that showing her goods wasn’t appropriate for a first date she hoped would lead to more than a one-night stand. The question was, would her date like tame? Or should have insisted on something sexier?
She hitched up the sleeve of her jacket, glanced at her watch for the third time in ten minutes, and heaved a sigh. Her date was late. Okay, so only by five minutes, but in her profession, punctuality was everything. That he was late told her a lot. Namely, that he thought so little of her he couldn’t be bothered to show up on time.
So much for the old adage “third time’s the charm.” This was her third date with Military Match, and it wasn’t starting out any better than the others had. The first guy she’d met was so cheap he’d practically squeaked. They’d gone to a matinee show, and he’d paid for dinner with coupons. Freaking coupons. The second guy spent the whole night talking about himself.
Figures that Lauren would go on one date and immediately meet the man she would marry in three months.
Steph glanced down at her top again. Okay, so maybe she should give Lauren more credit. She and Mandy, best friend number two, had dressed Lauren conservative for her date, and looked how that turned out.
She lifted her face to the beautiful sky and stared at the few stars peeking out from between the clouds. She’d known Mandy for two years now, since the day she’d hired the cute brunette to help plan her wedding. When Alec had left her standing at the altar, looking and feeling like an utter fool, Mandy had been the friend she needed. She’d introduced her to her childhood friend Lauren. That night Mandy had insisted on a girls’ night at home. They’d had so much fun, they’d immediately made it a weekly thing.
If she’d ever had sisters, those two would’ve been it.
Which was why she’d taken Lauren’s wardrobe suggestions. More than anything, she wanted to meet someone special. Since that day, two years ago now, when Alec had stood her up at the altar, she’d been living a lie, determined never to get hurt like that again. But the truth was, she’d grown tired of the endless flings she’d once convinced herself she delighted in. Deep down she wasn’t a single kind of girl, and waking alone every day only served to make her feel exactly that—alone.
Steph turned to scan the area around her again. It being April in the Pacific Northwest, the night was gorgeous. Not quite sixty, with lovely cool breezes and a clear sky, a few stars peeking out from behind the clouds. They usually didn’t see days like this until nearly July. Any other time, she’d have put on her Nikes and gone for a run, simply for an excuse to enjoy the break from the ceaseless rain. Apparently, she wasn’t alone in that sentiment. A half dozen or so people littered the area.
Her date could be any one of them. Not that she’d recognize him if she saw him. The only information about him the woman from Military Match had given her was that he was “huge,” had dark hair, and would be wearing something blue. She was told to meet him by the beach, here at Chism Park.
Restless with the need to move, she surged to her feet and turned in a slow circle. Halfway around, a sight stopped her cold. Some twenty feet or so down the sidewalk, a huge hulk of a man stood doing exactly what she was. Hands stuffed in his pockets, he looked around, as if he were waiting for someone.
The width of his strong shoulders and the dark hair licking at the collar of his black leather jacket sent her stomach into overdrive. The ache of familiarity flooded her veins, setting her heart to trying to escape her chest.
Gabe.
God, he looked exactly the same as the last time she’d seen him. Had it really been eleven years? He stood six foot six inches of intimidating, delicious man. His hair curled over his forehead, the ends whipping in the slight breeze. Her hands itched with remembrance. How many times had she brushed those curls out of his eyes?
Back in college, undergrad days, those big hands and that muscular body had given her so much pleasure. Of all her lovers over the years, he was the one she couldn’t forget. He’d been one of the few to truly rock her world. The energy they’d worked up in each other could easily have powered a small city.
He’d also been one of the few to manage the feat of capturing her heart. Her one and only foray into how to do everything wrong. She’d fallen in love with her best friend. Eleven years ago she and Gabe had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship. They’d hung out, discussing classes and dick professors while sharing cartons of Chinese as often as they’d fucked.
Of course, the bigger question was…was he tonight’s date?
The thought made her stomach flip-flop. What she wanted was to turn around and run. Of all the men she could have ended up with tonight, it had to be him. She was here, though, and curiosity had her by the heart. She’d thought of him often over the years.
Besides, Steph Mason didn’t run from anything.
She drew her shoulders back, plastered on her best “no care in the world” smile, and sauntered in his direction. “Gabriel Donovan.”
His head snapped in her direction, and familiar hazel eyes settled on her. Oh, she didn’t have to see them to know their color. She’d know those eyes anywhere, because she’d spent years trying not to stare at them. Beautiful and intense, they were a mix of chocolate brown and a deep, mossy green. They widened as recognition dawned over him. “Stephanie Mason. I’ll be damned.”
As she came to a stop in front of him, she had to tip her head back to look into his face. He stood a good head above her, and she shivered with the power of that broad body.
“The last time I saw you, you were crawling out of my bed.” She attempted to keep the conversation light, but the truth was, the last night they were together, Gabe had gotten a phone call that changed his entire world. His parents had died a tragic, senseless death, literally at the wrong place at the wrong time. A robbery attempt gone wrong had left him suddenly in charge of his teenaged sister. Gabe had dropped out of school a week later and moved home to Oregon to take care of Molly.
“Been a long time, Steph.” He grinned, revealing a dazzling smile that eleven years ago would have taken her breath away. Now it sent more memories flooding through her mind. That playful smile had drawn her in the first time he’d flashed it at her.
“That it has. Last I heard from you, you’d joined the navy. They were stationing you in California.” They’d kept in touch for a while after he went home but had slowly lost track of each other over the years.
He gave an absentminded nod. “Camp Coronado. It’s where I did my BUD/S training.”
Buds training…Where had she heard that term before? Wait a minute…“You were a SEAL?”
He darted a glance at her. “Team three. Moved back here about four years ago.”
She nudged him with an elbow. “Seriously impressive.”
He didn’t say anything, but seemed to draw within himself. His gaze slid off to his right, and awkward tension moved over him. She searched her thoughts for something, anything, to pull him out of what seemed to be heavy thoughts, when her gaze settled on his tie. The sapphire blue stood out against the stark white of his shirt. Damn. That tie meant Gabe was her date.
Well, the only thing to do now was face it head-on. The way she did everything.
She drew a deep breath for courage and tugged on his tie. “Blue.”
His gaze snapped back to her, dropped to his tie, then returned to her again. One corner of his mouth hitched. He nodded in her direction, no doubt indicating the similar color of her shirt. Amusement and recognition glinted in his eyes. “Also blue.”
“That makes you the date I’ve been waiting for.” She couldn’t be sure if she wanted to hug the stuffing out of him or puke on his shoes. Despite everything, it was good to see him. She had to admit, if only to herself, she’d missed him.
He shook his head, reached up to rub the back of his neck, and glanced around him. “Sorry I’m late. Forgot what part of the park we were supposed to meet at. I swore I wrote it down, but I couldn’t find the damn note.”
She lifted a brow. “Nervous?”
For that one small thing, she was eternally grateful. At least she wasn’t the only one coming out of her skin. She’d thought about this moment a lot over the years. Where he was, what his life was like, what she’d do if she ever saw him again. She hadn’t anticipated the power of being in his presence again, though. In the courtroom, she could hold her own. Here with him? Her knees were shaking.
He let out an uncomfortable laugh. “Does it show?”
“Nope. You’re as solid as ever. Don’t feel bad. This date has my stomach tied into knots on top of knots.” Unable to contain her excitement any longer, she punched him lightly in the shoulder. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m good.” Gabe laughed, his gaze sweeping the length of her. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still as sexy as ever. The hair’s changed, though. You had a pixie cut last I saw you. Long looks good on you.”
The husky timbre of his voice made her nipples tighten. Whether consciously or otherwise, he reached out and pushed her hair back off her shoulder, his fingers brushing the skin of her neck. A full-out shiver swept the length of her spine. God, she was doomed. One touch from him sent fire burning through her blood.
“You’re still the same. Same curls, same crooked smile.” He had lines around his eyes now, but she liked them. They lent his appearance a maturity that looked good on him. As if it were possible for Gabe Donovan to get any sexier.
He dropped his hand, his mouth forming a thin line. Something somber moved over him and the playful air between them shifted. “I’ve changed. Parts of me, at least.”
She frowned, trying to comprehend the sudden tension moving over him. That was the second time in five minutes he’d gotten that look on his face. It was subtle but undeniable.
He stared at her for a beat, then slid his hand down his left thigh, inching the pant leg of his jeans up enough to reveal his ankle. Or at least, what should have been an ankle. Instead, there was a metal rod attached to some sort of plastic device. It took all of two seconds to realize what he was showing her. Gabe had lost his leg.
“Oh my God.” Her breath caught in a suddenly full throat as the aching realization punched her in the chest. Her eyes misted, a million horror-filled visions floating through her mind. Namely, how he’d lost it. Was it a roadside bomb? Or a suicide bomber? The thought of him in any one of the possibilities made breathing impossible. God, now she really wanted to hug the stuffing out of him.
She stroked her hand down his thigh, following the length of his leg. The muscle beneath tensed, but he didn’t pull away or ask her to stop. Her hand smoothed over solid muscle, then over the bone of his knee. So he had that much at least.
When she looked up at him again, he stood with his shoulders drawn back, mouth a thin, tight line. Those hazel eyes searched hers. Anxious. Waiting.
Her minded shifted gears, and her face heated. God, what her reaction must seem to him. She drew back her trembling hand and straightened. Pull it together.
“I’m sorry. You surprised me. I’m imagining the pain, how it must have happened…” Despite her best effort, her voice wobbled, and she let the rest of the sentence float off on the breeze. She must look like a blubbering idiot. She was a divorce attorney for one of the best firms in the city. Not much surprised her or frightened her anymore. But the thought of him wounded had her heart in a vise.
He stared at her for a beat, eyes reaching and searching. Whatever he looked for, he seemed to find, for he cupped her chin in his palm and stroked her skin with his thumb. The tension in his body dissipated. “I’m alive and otherwise whole. It’s just a foot.”
She rolled her eyes. “Leave it to you to make a joke of it. Clearly you haven’t changed.”
He dropped his hand and held out his elbow instead. “Walk with me?”
She nodded, took his proffered elbow, and they started off, following the trail leading around the lake. All things considered, he walked well, with the same smooth, lanky gait he’d had years ago. If he hadn’t shown her his prosthesis, she wouldn’t have suspected.
“I lost the leg in Iraq, a little over four years ago. My third stint over there. I was on a truck at the end of a convoy that was hit by a bazooka rocket. We were acting as support for the local militia when we were ambushed.”
“Did it hurt?” Another stupid question, but she was having a hard time with this one. She couldn’t stop picturing him on that truck—the rocket exploding through the men, him being hurled from the vehicle. Her chest constricted and tears filled her eyes all over again.
“Oddly enough, not at first. It’s how I knew something was wrong. I couldn’t feel my leg. Hurt like a bitch when I came to in the hospital, though. It was a lot of physical therapy and learning how to walk again. Now…” He shrugged. “I’m used to it. It’s just another part of me, I guess.”
“You were nervous, though, telling me.” She glanced up at him, offering him an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry about my reaction. It wasn’t the leg. It was just…a shock, I guess. I’m still picturing you running circles around me and teasing me for being so slow.”
They’d originally met because they’d run the same loop around the University of Washington campus. She’d passed him every day. One evening he’d jogged up beside her and started a conversation that launched a thousand others.
“I can still run circles around you.” He playfully bumped her shoulder; then somberness settled over him again. “You’re not the first person I’ve told, but it’s never easy to do. I never know how people will react. Some people can’t handle it.”
She squeezed his biceps. “I am sorry. I should have stopped to think about how that would seem to you.”
“Forget about it. The look on your face told me what you were thinking right then.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “I’ve never had a great poker face.”
He glided to a stop and turned to her. The quiet, all-too-familiar intensity of his gaze made her shiver in spite of herself. “Apparently we’re stuck together for the evening. How ’bout some dinner?”
She shouldn’t. Since her breakup with Alec, she hadn’t had anything resembling a normal relationship. When she’d agreed to this date, she’d wanted a middle road, a first step, and history told her that nothing with Gabe would ever be uncomplicated. He was here, though, and she couldn’t deny that for eleven years she’d been dying to catch up with him.
She smiled. “Sounds great.”