Strategic Engagement

"There are a thousand ways around that and you know it. Not to mention we've been to the doctor, and you're still so flipping prickly on the subject you have cactus written all over you. Why?"



Because her mother's calendar carried nothing but doctor's appointments. Because she didn't want to be a burden to anyone. Because Kent had parked her in more doctor offices during three years than most people saw in a lifetime.



She pitched those thoughts out the window with the salty breeze. Hadn't she resolved only a few hours ago to reclaim her strength? She'd had enough morbidity for one day. Real worries would close in soon enough, and for now she just wanted to enjoy her time with Danny. "Like I said before, women have lived with this since the beginning of time, and the last thing we want is to discuss it with men who wince.



The big brave warrior threw back his shoulders. "I did not wince."



"Oh, really?" She jabbed him in the side with a teasing poke. "You wouldn't turn green over the mere mention of a shopping expedition for feminine hygiene products?"



She had to give him credit. He didn't turn green. However, he was giving pale a run for its money.



"Okay, maybe you have a point. But I think I could have handled buying you a bottle of Motrin or a request for Kathleen to give you a checkup after she finished with Trey. I'm a modern guy. What's the big deal?"



She snorted and snitched a piece of licorice from his hand. "Liar."



"Aw, now cut it out. Be fair. Like you wouldn't wince over shopping for … for—" he paused, then snapped his fingers "—for a jock strap."



A laugh bubbled. God she missed laughing with him.



"And just think of the poor sales clerk at the sporting store if you had to quiz him on what size you should buy."



"I remember your size just fine, Danny."



Had she said that?



His eyes widened, focused on crossing a low rail bridge with exaggerated care.



Oh, yeah. She sure had said it.



"Uh, thank you?"



"No problem." Well, actually it was starting to be a problem as need snapped along the air between them.



And they would be spending an indeterminate amount of time alone. No tiny chaperones. No secrets. And a teenage need that had matured into an adult hunger. Now all those memories swirled through the car, the medicine buzz not unlike the champagne buzz all those years ago that had led her to pitch her clothes off.



She sagged back against the headrest. With the lulling pass of each mossy oak, she fought the sensory overload draw of Daniel's smile and bay-rum-tinged hydraulic fluid riding the ocean breeze…



She didn't want to be pregnant. Mary Elise touched a bare foot to the ground and launched her old tire swing into motion under the ancient oak while watching Danny's back door. He'd just pulled into the driveway, home for the summer, and she knew he wouldn't wait long to see her.



To find out if their night together—long, hot hours—had left her pregnant.



Who wanted to be pregnant and unmarried at nineteen with three years of college left to finish? And it wasn't like she even loved the baby's father. Well, she loved him. She just wasn't in love with him. Like, geez, it was Danny. Her best friend.



Her best friend who really knew how to do it.



Well, as best she could tell then, from her limited—okay, nonexistent—experience. Now she had a weekend of experience under her tightening belt, along with a growing baby. No Air Force Academy graduation for Danny. No journalism degree and crime-beat-reporter job for her. And the part that sucked most was she hurt more over Danny losing his dreams than she did over losing her own.



She knew without a doubt he would offer to marry her. Would insist on marrying her. She wanted to tell him no, but the thing was, as much as she didn't want to be pregnant, she was. And it was Danny's baby, which made the kid already cute and special and deserving of the best she could manage.



So yeah, if he pushed, she'd marry him. Maybe they could work out one of those married-for-a-year deals so the baby would have his name.



But he'd still be booted out of the Air Force Academy. Would still lose his dream. And an ache started low in the pit of her belly at even the thought of pushing him out of her life in something so harsh sounding as a divorce.



Geez. They should be making plans to go to the beach, not wedding plans.



Then there he was. Danny, striding across the glass-enclosed back porch, through the screen door.



The military precision slipped into his walk a little more with each year at the Air Force Academy. He could wear wrinkled clothes all he wanted. The walk gave him away.



Pushing up from the swing, she made her way past a blooming dogwood tree, through the ivy-covered gate. He looked older, too. His parents' split hit him hard. He kept saying it didn't matter, since he was grown. She knew better. Senator Baker's trophy marriage shrieked cliché to a son who personified uniqueness.



That had to be the reason worry lines creased Danny's face. Not because they both knew they'd been stupid, stupid, stupid not to use birth control.



"Hey, Mary 'Lise." His smile pulled tight as he drew her in for a hug. Are you?



She could feel his unspoken question reach to her. His arms wrapped around her with the familiarity of a hundred other hugs. The awareness tinged with fear, however, was all new.



Are you pregnant? Again, the silent question pulsed from him.



Mary Elise swallowed and forced the words out. "I am."



She didn't have to say anything else. He would know what she meant. That damned unspoken connection between them was working just fine. She'd prepped herself for his proposal, knew Danny well enough to understand his sense of honor wouldn't let him do anything else.



But please, please, please, with her hormones in an ungodly tangle she wasn't sure she could handle seeing disappointment in his eyes, even though he had every right.



He held so still, unmoving for four deep breaths of her own. With their connection in total working order, she felt it all rock through his motionless body—the shock, frustration, anger … the resolution.



Finally he stepped back. She opened her eyes, slowly, in no great hurry to face him just yet, and found … Danny's smile at its most kick-ass vibrant.



"Well, Mary Elise, then I guess there's no reason we can't go lock ourselves in the pool house, tear off all our clothes and have out-of-control screaming sex." Scooping her up into his arms, Danny planted a deep kiss on her lips and made fast tracks past the diving board.



Mary Elise laughed, tension easing at least a bit. Her hand snuck up to play with the close-cropped hair at the nape of his neck. Yeah, she knew the proposal would come once their clothes lay in a pile by their sweaty, sated bodies. But he understood her enough to realize she couldn't hear those words yet.



And in that moment she fell a little in love with Danny after all.



Daniel scooped up sleeping Mary Elise and kicked the car door closed. Softly. Keeping his motions quiet, steady, although Mary Elise slept like the dead.



Dead.Not his favorite word today. Pine straw muffled the thud of his boots toward the rectangular cabin—a shot-gun-style house, one room deep, long and thin. Nowhere for anyone to hide inside.



He hitched his hold on her, his survival vest and belt dangling from the crook of his arm. He'd unload the rest of the gear once he had her inside, but not a chance would he let his gun out of his reach.



His eyes scanned, assessing for vulnerability with each step closer to the clapboard fishing retreat on stilts. He would have to put trip wires around the open underway to stop anyone from lurking beneath.



Shallow tides bordered the house on three sides, rotting marsh grass emitting a methane scent into the air. At least they would have prior warning of "visitors" on those three fronts from the water.



A single road in. Two minor paths, Manageable to defend with traps positioned to disable intruders.



Daniel ducked to avoid the drape of Spanish moss trailing from the limbs of an ancient oak, sidestepped a hammock blowing in the salty breeze.



What a haven this would be any other time, with its uninterrupted view of the water, dock stretching into the reedy surf rippling out into the main ocean way. Max had chosen his retreat well for peace … and safety.



Thudding up the wooden steps, Daniel shifted Mary Elise in his arms, the late-afternoon sun casting pasty shadows across the hollows in her cheeks. He cursed Kent McRae for at least the fiftieth time. Bending at the knees, Daniel flipped open the metal box by the door and punched in the security code he'd memorized from Max, before opening the dead bolt.



She could talk all damned day about how she would be fine, and that didn't change the fact that she should be putting her feet up until her medicines took effect.



Daniel toed open the door and stepped inside the rustic one-room cabin with nothing more than a few pieces of sparse furniture and a walk-in closet bathroom/shower stall. A man's dream retreat. And the least romantic getaway he could think of to offer a woman in need of pampering and R&R.



If he even knew what to do for her in the first place.



Kathleen Bennett and her damn rule book. Screw patient confidentiality. The best she'd given him was directions to check out the Internet, since he already knew Mary Elise had endometriosis and fertility problems. The most freaking unfair thing he could imagine, this woman not having her arms and heart full of babies.



Daniel shut down the image he'd carried for years, a mental picture of what Mary Elise might have looked like holding their kid. Focus on the here and now. He made tracks through the efficiency kitchen with a small counter and two bar stools, past the single sofa in front of a stone fireplace to the quilt-covered bed tucked against the back wall.



Not that Mary Elise would voice a complaint about their accommodations. Of course he appreciated her grit, but only to a point. And if he tried to discuss her medical needs with her again, who knew where she'd flip the conversation this time. The jock-strap-size discussion still had him swallowing his damned tongue.



He grinned.



Yeah, he liked her grit, all wrapped up in a subtle package and gentle smile, which gave the surprise wallop all the more punch. He hated like hell what had brought them here, but couldn't stop the surge of excitement over having her all to himself.



He was one messed-up dude. No doubt.



Daniel lowered her to the bed, surprised at the give under his hands. A water bed. He fixed his eyes on her face for the least sign of stirring. The gentle roll of enclosed waves welcomed her in a lulling embrace.



Unable to resist, a given around Mary Elise lately, he slid his survival vest and belt to the floor and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Lingered. He inhaled the honey-suckle scent of her shampoo like some infatuated adolescent. Except, the powerful tangle of frustration, anger, protectiveness pounding through him had little to do with tender teen emotions.



"I swear I won't let that bastard ever hurt you again," he whispered against her skin.



Her hand glided up to his chest. "Danny?"



She lay so still he missed the motion until he felt the warm weight of her palm seep through his uniform. He stared down into eyes the green of deep summer. And damned if it wasn't just the two of them. Completely alone for the first time in eleven years.



Chapter 13



Water bed rolling lightly beneath her, Mary Elise struggled to shake off the fuzzy dream remnants of long ago riding in Danny's warm embrace. A tough proposition when she could still feel the imprint of his strong arms banded around her after he carried her from the car.



The roar of the ocean outside lulled her, but she fought sleep's call. She brushed the pads of her fingers against the raspy texture of Daniel's flight suit. The whole dark-wood cabin decor and dim light through thick panes offered an ends-of-the-earth solitude her sleep-mussed brain couldn't seem to recall why she should resist. "Were you going to tell me we're here?"She flicked his zipper tab with one finger.