Three weeks later...
Dear Levi, I saw your boat on the bay today and wondered what it would be like to make love on the water. You rocking inside of me while the boats rocked along the waves...
When Natalie Rowland’s assistant, in a bout of unusual efficiency, had mistakenly gathered up her private correspondence along with her art gallery’s promotional mailings and had stamped her return address onto what was supposed to have been--and forever remain--an anonymous sexy love letter, then had personally carried it all to the post office, Natalie had known a single blinding moment of panic when she’d belatedly realized that her private, God help her, no-longer anonymous letter had been posted.
That gut-wrenching, miserable, hyperventilating, nausea-inducing panic paled in comparison to the news she’d just received.
“Levi’s c-coming home,” she repeated, her voice a strangled croak. A familiar sense of unease made her stomach wobble in warning.
Adam McPherson shifted, barely winced, and tossed the five of clubs onto the discard pile. Though she knew on some level that he had to mourn--and even resent, to some degree--the recent loss of his right leg below the knee, since returning home to his parent’s house in Bethel Bay a week ago from The Center for the Intrepid in San Antonio, Texas--the nation’s premiere facility for amputee and burn victims--he hadn’t voiced a single complaint.
She’d catch the occasional broodingly haunted expression, when she knew he was reliving the horror of the incident which had taken his part of his leg, but the minute he caught her looking at him, he’d blink away the expression and smile. But that was Adam. A stoic goofball with hidden depths, and one of her longest and dearest friends.
She’d missed him terribly over the years and had looked forward to his visits home, but admittedly, this was not the sort of occasion she’d been hoping for. His mother had called her as soon as she’d heard the news and had kept her updated until Adam had made it back to town.
Despite the fact that his surgery had gone well and he was healing nicely, recovery was still a long arduous road, but one she had every confidence he would tread with the same wry humor and determination he’d always had.
Even if he had to do it with a prosthesis.
His physical therapy was progressing well and, considering the recent advancements in prosthetic technology, he had every intention of returning to active duty as soon as humanly possible. Or so he said, and for his sake and sanity, Natalie certainly hoped so. Presently Adam was staying with his parents in their beautiful bayside home--just a few doors down from her own cottage--while recuperating.
Speculation had run rampant during their high school and college years as to whether their friendship would ever develop into something romantic, but that had never been a possibility. She inwardly smiled.
Probably because she’d been in love with his older brother, Levi, for what felt like most of her life.
Though she’d nursed a crush on him during high school--one that had started within a few days of them moving to Bethel Bay after his father had retired--Natalie could vividly remember the exact moment when she’d fallen in love with him.
It had been another hot summer night at the beach, just one of many they’d spent gathered around a fire, listening to music and hanging out. A few yards down the beach a couple had been arguing and as time wore on, the fight escalated. Things hit a fever pitch, and the guy backhanded the woman across the face, knocking her to the ground.
Without the slightest hesitation, Levi had raced down the beach and pummeled the hell out of the guy, who at the time had been at least twice his age. Show some respect, you weak bastard, he’d said.
And she’d never forgotten it.
Though that had been the defining moment for her, there’d been many more over the years. Levi was the type of guy who never missed an opportunity to do the right thing, even if it was hard. He was always the first to befriend the friendless, to champion the underdog. He was the kind of guy who walked little old ladies across the street, always stopped to help a stranded motorist change a tire and never failed to open a door for a lady. He was a rare combination, a dying breed of man--he was a gentleman and a hero, a beautiful badass who’d always made her heart sing.
Levi McPherson. The mere thought of him made something besides her nervous stomach shift and warm in her middle.
And he was coming home.
“Yep,” Adam confirmed, much to Natalie’s commingled joy and horror. “Today as a matter of fact.” He paused to take a drink of lemonade. From their vantage point on the screened in porch, a couple of jet skis raced around the bay, kicking up a stream of salty spray. “Mom and Dad have gone to Charleston to pick him up. They should be back any minute.”
Any minute? Levi? Here? She swallowed, trying not to hurl, a lamentable well-documented byproduct of her nerves. Other people broke out in hives or developed a tick. Not her--she puked. Sometimes on people, she thought, remembering that terrible choir incident in fifth grade.
Natalie rearranged the cards in her hand, hoping to disguise the sudden trembling in her fingers and felt her mouth go bone dry. Her heart momentarily fainted, then thankfully regained consciousness. She picked up the five, made a run, and then discarded the Jack of Hearts.
“Really? I, uh... I didn’t think he would get to come home.” Small understatement. It had never occurred to her that he’d be home before his tour was up. It hadn’t occurred to anyone else either, she knew, otherwise the city council--of which she was a part--would have already started planning their Welcome Home parade.
“Me either,” Adam said, watching her closely. His eyes twinkled with a humor she didn’t altogether trust. “Ordinarily I would have had to have come home in a pine box for him to get leave--“
She glared at him in admonishment, not finding the comment the least bit funny. He’d come too damned close to that very scenario. “Adam.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking a bit repentant. “Bad joke. But I suspect the General pulled some strings. Retired or not, he’s still got some friends in high places and the one in the Governor’s office, in particular, has called recently.”
Natalie had always gotten a kick out of how everyone--including their mother--had always called Jack McPherson “the General” instead of “Dad.” More than likely, though, Adam was right. American troops were stretched thin, so allowing a soldier home--particularly a Ranger like Levi--wasn’t the norm, even under these sad circumstances. No doubt their mother’s recent cancer scare had played a considerable part in the General flexing his influential muscle to bring Levi back to the States, even temporarily.
She batted a wisp of hair from her eyes, wondering how Levi felt about it. She knew from his letters--the one’s he’d written to her via her PO Box--that he was very loyal to his unit and often talked about the brotherhood that existed in the military, particularly in times of crisis. Of course, watching Adam leave, who was also a part of his unit, couldn’t have been easy either. No doubt he was torn between the two.
She cleared her throat, hoping that she sounded marginally nonchalant. “How long will he be home?”
“Just a few days,” he said.
Damn. That was still long enough for his mail to be forwarded, provided the evidence of her identity hadn’t already arrived. She didn’t think so, but...
Honestly, when she’d realized that Lacey--her ordinarily inefficient assistant--had out’ed her with her return address stamp--damn that stern talking to she’d given her about being more proactive--the intestinal-knotting panic Natalie had known as a result of that knowledge had almost been enough to bring her to her knees. Little stars had danced behind her lids and the only thing which had prevented her from hurling--her usual coping-with-stress mechanism--was the fact that it was physically impossible to hyperventilate and throw up simultaneously. Small favors, she reminded herself now, as the panic and nausea made an encore appearance.
Levi. Here. Any minute now.
She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. And, dammit, wouldn’t you know she looked like hell? Just her freaking luck. She and her father had been out beach-combing this morning for drift wood--the tool of her trade as a driftwood artist--and had planned to go back this afternoon for low tide. Rather than change clothes for she and Adam’s daily Tonk tournament, she’d worn her usual uniform of cut-off denim shorts, a bikini top and a tank. She smothered a miserable whine. She looked like a sea urchin.
Oh, goody.
Though Natalie would love to belong to the don’t-worry-about-what-you-can’t change school of thought, regrettably she’d never been able to embrace the philosophy. That’s why she was active on her city council, participated in local charities and made sure to do her part to make the world--or at least her little part of it--a better place. In the grand scheme of things, logically she knew that Levi finding out that she’d been the one writing the letters wasn’t the worst possible thing that could happen to her.
She’d already lived through that, thank you, she thought, swallowing tightly as a dear image of her mother rose in her mind’s eye.
But the heart wasn’t logical, and the part of her that was responsible for pragmatic thoughts was currently trying to keep her breakfast from making an encore appearance.
Would seeing him again under the circumstances be embarrassing? Oh, dear God, yes. Had she planned on facing him so soon? Certainly not. In fact, considering that he was deployed for another two months, she’d given herself that long to try and figure out how she was going to handle it. Ordinarily she was more of a take-the-bull-by-the-horns sort of person, but in this instance she just hadn’t been able to bear to think about it. Unfortunately, rather than the two months she’d thought she’d had to formulate a plan, she’d be lucky if she had two minutes.
Sweet God, what was she going to do? Better still, what could she do? Provided she could even think of a way to intercept the letter--wishful, lunatic thinking at its best--tampering with the US Mail was a federal offense. While she’d been known to enjoy a prank or two, she’d never slid a toe over the strictly illegal line. Natalie released a small breath.
He was going to find out that she’d written the letters.
Every hot, depraved, totally uncensored one of them. It was inevitable, she knew. And then, this strange relationship--the only one she knew she’d ever have with him--would be over. No more letters. No more “talking.” No more...anything.
Frankly, she’d long ago given up the hope that Levi would permanently return to Bethel Bay and, after the whole left-at-the-alter-thing Sabrina had put him through, she didn’t imagine he’d ever settle down.
Least of all with her.
Sad, but true. Oh, he’d always been nice to her. She and Adam had spent enough time together over the years that she’d been around Levi--despite him being a couple of years older--a pretty good bit, but in all that time she’d never detected even the slightest bit of interest in her whatsoever. He was polite. He was kind. He’d crack the occasional joke, but never once had he intimated any sort of interest in her at all.
Granted that had all changed with the letters--how many times had he written her back, wanting to know who she was?--but therein lay her present magic.
Anonymity.
He didn’t know who she was. The woman who he’d been exchanging correspondence with was the Mysterious Ms. X--his nickname for her made her smile--not Natalie Rowland, home town girl, little brother’s close friend and, most damningly, bride’s maid at his ill-fated wedding.
Honestly, there had many times in her life when she’d seriously questioned her own judgment--using self-tanning lotion the night before Senior Prom (orange was not her color), allowing Adam to talk her into attaching a “Wide Load” sign onto the back of the high school principal’s car (detention) and more recently, trying to make s’mores in the oven rather than the traditional way around a camp fire (huge mess,) but allowing her father to talk her into agreeing to be one of Sabrina’s bride’s maid’s by far took the Stupid Trophy. As her cousin, even though she’d never particularly liked her, at the end of the day it would have been bad form to refuse.
In short, she’d really had no choice.
Despite the fact that she and Sabrina had never been close and she’d had no idea until Adam had told her that Sabrina had been having an affair, Natalie suspected she would always be guilty by association. Frankly, he hadn’t looked at her the same way since. On the rare but wonderful occasions she’d seen him since he’d always been a bit...distant. Removed.
But better distant and removed than married to Sabrina, Natalie thought, remembering the abject heartache she’d suffered as a result of his original proposal to her shallow relation. Devastated didn’t begin to cover how she’d felt. Broken, ruined and beyond repair was a more accurate description. Though she knew that he’d been humiliated and hurt, Natalie had silently rejoiced when Sabrina had canceled the wedding. And she’d been equally happy when Sabrina had moved to Nashville to pursue her dream of becoming a country music star last year, Natalie thought, remembering her cousin’s horrible warble.
“You okay?” he asked. A smile flirted with the corners of his lips. “You’re looking a little green.”
Adam, damn him, was well-acquainted with her nervous stomach tendencies, but she’d eat glass before she’d admit that anything was wrong. She blinked innocently. “No, I’m fine.”
He studied her for a minute. “I’m glad he’s getting a break,” Adam finally remarked, tossing another card down. They’d played every day since he’d gotten home--Tonk, of course, because it had always been their game of choice. “His tour is up in a couple of months, but the time away will help him decompress.”
“That bad, eh?” she asked, wincing softly.
Adam swallowed and one of those rare but fleeting grim looks came over his handsome face. “It’s war, sweetheart. It ain’t ever pretty.”
She knew that. Still... Rather than ask questions she knew he didn’t want to answer, Natalie hummed under her breath and played another card.
“Of course, I expect he’ll have his hands full trying to find out who his mystery woman is,” he said. Looking decidedly smug, he leaned back in his chair and absently scratched his chest.
Meanwhile her heart threatened to pound through hers. “Oh?” she croaked. “What mystery woman?” Find her? Find her? What in sweet hell was she going to do? What now, girl genius?
“That’s the question. Levi’s been getting letters from home from a woman for months now.” He snorted. “Of course the bastard wouldn’t let me read them, but I can tell he’s pretty damned intrigued by her.” He slid her a sly smile. “Interestingly, I noticed that Levi’s letters were coming on the same days I’d get one from you.”
Oh, shit. Her gaze darted to his and she licked her suddenly dry lips. “You know how the mail is,” she said with an airy wave of her hand, cutting the line on his fishing expedition.
Adam considered her long enough to make her want to squirm. “I suppose,” he finally remarked. “Still, I do find it a bit odd.”
He could find it as odd as he wanted to so long as he didn’t know, Natalie thought, struggling to bring her heart rate back into a regular rhythm. Geez Lord, she’d be mortified. Particularly if Adam ever read any of the letters.
They were quite...graphic.
When she’d first decided to start writing Levi, she’d had no idea when she’d initially put pen to paper that she was going to write about her actual dreams and fantasies. She’d just seen a particularly grisly newscast on the war in Iraq and even though the idea that Levi and Adam might not come home had always hovered in the very back of her mind, for whatever reason--the images, the footage--had suddenly made her intensely aware of their mortality.
Her larger-than-life, indomitable friends, badass soldiers...could die.
The realization had rattled her to the core and she’d decided then and there that she wouldn’t let another sun set without letting them know how she felt. Furthermore, she’d been under the mistaken impression that by writing the letters to Levi, she could somehow exorcise him from her heart. In theory the logic had seemed sound. In execution, it had only made her more intensely aware of how much--how very deeply--she cared for him. And when he’d started writing her back... Well, she’d been done for, hadn’t she?
The letters she’d written to Adam had kept him abreast of things happening at home, had been filled with jokes and trivia questions, but more importantly, with appreciation of their friendship and the sacrifice he was making for their country.
The letters she’d written to Levi, anonymously, of course, had been filled with the deepest desires of her heart. And part of the deepest desires of her heart involved the deepest desire of her flesh.
Hers on his, specifically.
An uneven breath stuttered out of her mouth and in that instant Levi McPherson strolled around the corner, effectively snatching what little air was left in her lungs. Her body went into a full-on tingle that encompassed every inch of skin from head to toe. She should be used to it by now--it happened every time she saw him--but somehow the sensation always managed to catch her off guard.
Dressed simply in camouflage and black combat boots, a lazy smile rolling around his unusually sensual lips, he was the epitome of a true soldier. Courage, confidence and valor were inherent in the way he moved, the shape of his jaw, the noble line of his brow. Broad, competent shoulders, muscled forearms, a lean tapered waist and long legs rounded out a physique that commanded attention and respect. In short, he was damned fine and her belly filled with warm bubbly air just looking at him. Her nipples gave a quick tingle and a wave of heat washed over her thighs. In an instant, every wicked, depraved scenario she’d written to him reeled through her mind. Warm, naked skin. Muscles bunching beneath her fingertips, his hot mouth feasting between her thighs...
Dimly she watched his parents follow in his wake as he made determined strides to Adam.
A broad smile lighting his face, Adam grabbed his crutches and started to stand.
“You don’t have to get up,” Levi told him. She melted inside at the mere sound of his voice.
“The hell I don’t,” Adam shot back, easily maneuvering himself onto his leg. “I’m not some little old grandma who’s going to settle for a one-armed hug.” Keeping one crutch tucked up under his arm, he nevertheless wrapped both hard around his brother and, laughing, squeezed. The boys had always shared a special bond, and never was that more evident than right now.
Natalie stood awkwardly, feeling curiously out of place. The backs of her eyes burned, watching them, and a quick look at Sharon--their mother--confirmed that she was tearing up as well. Even the General appeared a bit choked up as he looked away and cleared his throat.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, little bro,” Levi said, drawing back to get a better look at Adam.
“I told you when I left that I’d be fine. You might be older--“ He frowned and pretended to peer more closely at Levi’s light brown hair. “--but that doesn’t mean that you’re the wiser. Is that a gray hair, old man?”
Levi grinned and a bit of relief clung to that smile. “Still a smart ass I see.”
“My sense of humor wasn’t in my leg. Ya’ll have got to stop making a fuss. I’m fine,” he insisted, sitting back down. And he could insist all he wanted to, but nobody was going to believe him. That perpetual smile he wore didn’t quite reach his eyes and a weariness he couldn’t altogether shake hung around his shoulders. “I’ll have a brand new kick-ass leg in a few weeks and if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be back with my guys, finishing what we’ve started.”
Natalie noticed Sharon send her husband a furtive look. Obviously his mother didn’t approve of that plan. Not that she could blame her, but...
Setting her cards down on the table, Natalie rubbed her suddenly damp hands against her cut-off jeans. “I should be going,” she said, not wanting to intrude anymore upon their homecoming. She couldn’t believe Adam had kept this from her. She wouldn’t have come over had she known Levi was coming home today.
Levi’s unusual toffee-colored gaze finally swung to hers, inadvertently making her body feel like it had been plunged into a furnace. A beat slid to three, then a flicker of something which looked impossibly like interest flared in those golden orbs, momentarily making her pulse trip.
But it was what she didn’t see that gave her the most relief--he didn’t know she was his Mysterious Ms. X.
Or at least, not yet.
“Natalie,” he said. To her instant shock and intense delight, he hugged her.
He’d never hugged her.
Big, hard and lean, his starched shirt beneath her cheek, it was all she could do to keep from melting all over him. Sweet, wicked sensation bolted through her and she barely suppressed a whimper. In his arms, at last, even innocently, was a little dream come true.
And Lord help her how she wanted more.
“It’s been a long time,” he said, drawing back. Those keen eyes found hers once more and again she thought she saw a perplexing flash of awareness in his gaze. Her pulse tripped and she felt her heart give a little jump.
Nah, she thought. It couldn’t be.
She stepped out of his embrace and a wobbly smile faltered over her lips. Wishful thinking, she told herself. Clearly all those letters had fostered a false sense of intimacy. The letters that would stop if he found out she’d written them. Somehow she had to keep him from learning her identity. She had no idea how, of course, but he couldn’t learn the truth. It would ruin their so-called relationship and she wasn’t willing to give it up. At least, not yet. She wasn’t ready.
Truth be told, she would never be ready, but...
“You don’t have to go,” Adam protested. “We’re just going to hang around here.” He nodded to Levi’s boat, nestled against the dock. “Might even take The Sabrina out for a spin after while.”
Levi’s jaw flexed and he shot his little brother an annoyed look. “Second order of business,” he said. “Rename the damned boat.”
Adam frowned, intrigued. “What’s the first order of business?”
“None of yours,” he answered mysteriously. His gaze jumped back to hers. “But he’s right.” He jerked his head toward the boat. “The General’s had her serviced for me. We’re going to take her out this evening if you’d like to come along.”
Was he asking because Adam had invited her? Natalie wondered, tempted. “I’ve got to put in some time in the studio today,” she said, hesitating.
As a driftwood artist, she pretty much set her own hours, but she was presently working on a pair of deer--a doe and a stag--that she was finding particularly enjoyable. She was inexplicably drawn to the stag. The proud angle of his head, the breadth and strength in his shoulders. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on it yet. She would, she knew, in time. Her art always spoke to her that way and she never failed to learn something about herself during the process.
Levi quirked a light, slanting brow. “Working on something new?”
Adam snorted with wry derision. “You know the answer to that. She’s always working on something new. That is when she’s not planning the Founder’s Day Festival and organizing clean-up crews for the park or directing the Downtown Walking Tours.” He pointed to the driftwood pendent around his neck. “She gave me this the day I got home.”
Levi studied the shape. “Nice,” he said, though it was obvious he didn’t have any idea what he was looking at.
“It’s the Chinese symbol for courage,” Natalie explained, smiling softly.
“Ah,” he said, inclining his head. That golden gaze found hers again, causing a little flutter of heat to whisper over the tips of her breasts. “Excellent choice.”
“She’s brilliant,” Adam spoke up. “You should go by her studio, or better still check out her gallery downtown. Beautiful stuff. Miss Bethel Bay here stays busy.” He grinned at her, obviously proud of her accomplishments. “Who would have thought that collecting all that driftwood would turn our little sand rat into an internationally renowned artist?”
“I don’t know about that,” Natalie said, feeling her cheeks warm under the spotlight of praise. “But it’s nice to do what I love to do, have people enjoy it and make a living.”
Actually, it was more than nice. Nice seemed like such an inadequate word when she considered that she was essentially living a dream, albeit a somewhat lonely one. She spent morning and evenings enjoying the beach, her days in her studio engrossed in her art. And, thanks to a single sale to an A-list star who made his home in France with his pop princess girlfriend, people paid ridiculously large sums of money to own a “Rowland” original. She’d gone from a gradual success to an overnight sensation. She should be happy--was happy--and yet...something had always been missing. Her gaze drifted to Levi.
She grimly suspected it was the man in front of her.
Seemingly impressed, Levi quirked a brow. “And your dad? Is he still helping you?”
“I couldn’t do it without him,” Natalie said, rocking back on her heels. Not altogether true, she knew, but true in the sense that it wouldn’t be the same. Since the drowning death of her mother five years ago, John Rowland hadn’t let her put so much as a toe in the ocean without him being there, even to gather driftwood along the beach. Another reason going out on the boat with Levi wouldn’t be a good idea. Her father would be a wreck with worry.
Molly Rowland had always been a strong swimmer, but she’d panicked when caught in a rip tide. It seemed so surreal to Natalie, even now. Her mother had always been so level-headed. Even-keeled. For months after she died, Natalie had sweated through nightmares of her mother’s tragic death. She would relive those horrible last moments...the terror, her heart-racing panic, leaden, tired limbs...then this strange acceptance and suffocation. She inwardly shivered, remembering.
Her father had been, in a word, devastated, following his wife’s passing and, while Natalie hadn’t necessarily needed his help--she’d always managed before--she’d nonetheless welcomed his presence. Since then they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Though she wouldn’t say she necessarily took care of her father--she had her own place, after all--she nonetheless spent a great deal of time with him.
“What do you say, Nat? You want to take a turn around the bay with us?” Adam asked.
Natalie hesitated, torn, but ultimately decided to pass. Levi had just gotten home and, while she knew she was welcome, she thought his mother would probably enjoy having some quality family time. She gave her head a small shake. “You know, as much as I’d love to, I really can’t. Dad and I are combing this afternoon, so...” She looked at Levi. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure,” he said. Was it her imagination or was that a fleeting look of disappointment on his face?
Natalie nodded, then bent and gave Adam a kiss on the cheek. She gestured to their game. “I won. You owe me a chick flick.” They’d been playing for movies. So far she’d had to watch two horror movies to her one chick flick. Now they were even.
Adam chuckled. “I’m not watching Steel Magnolias again,” he said as she waved goodbye.
Natalie merely smiled, but her insides vibrated with pent-up anxiety and longing as she walked away.
Levi McPherson was home...and his mail was sure to follow. One way or another she had to keep him from getting those letters.
The eternal question, of course, was...how?