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“Any more bags out there?” He pushed the chair back and stood up.

She shook her head. “This is it. Where’s Stacy?”

An indulgent grin curved his lips. “In her room, drawing pictures.”

Laurie shot an amused glance at the refrigerator door, which was covered with her daughter’s drawings. The pictures, done in crayon or colored pencil or marker, varied but the basic theme was the same in each one. Laurie, Stacy, and Damien held hands in various childish scenes. Laurie gave a mock groan.

“Guess I’ll have to start covering the walls.” She smiled at her lover. “How many do you have in your wallet now?”

“Three.” His hearty laughter filled the kitchen and her heart. “You?”

“Two in my wallet and two taped to the bulletin board in my office.”

Chuckling, Laurie put the groceries away as Damien returned to the table and his newspapers. She watched him curiously out the corner of her eye as she rummaged around in the freezer. Was he serious about leaving the Navy? She popped London broil into the microwave to defrost. Biting her lower lip, she touched the defrost button then programmed the weight of the beef and hit the start button. Finally she leaned against the edge of the sink, smoking a cigarette, and looked at Damien again. Why on earth would he give up a career that suited him so well?

“What are you doing?” she finally asked, as much from concern as curiosity.

“Scoping out the job market,” he replied without looking up. With a deft flick of those amazing hands, he switched to the next newspaper.

“Why?” She genuinely wanted and needed to know if Damien planned to change his entire life and why he would do such a thing.

“If I don’t re-enlist, I’ll need a job.” He flashed an engaging grin. “You know—one of those nine-to-five weekday things most civilians have.”

Laurie chuckled. “Don’t know. Never had a nine-to-five job myself.”

“I guess writers don’t operate on a schedule,” he commented, half serious, his dark eyes intense. “You go with the flow of inspiration.”

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“Yes, that’s true. But I wasn’t always a writer, Damien.” With a burst of insight, she stared at him. They knew very little of each other’s pasts. “It took a long time to get a book published. To support us, I worked all kinds of jobs—primarily cleaning motel rooms during the day and waiting tables on night shifts.

“Really.” Damien abandoned his newspapers and focused on her. Curiosity sparked in his eyes. “Did you go to college?”

“I didn’t finish,” she admitted but could not keep the twinge of regret out of her voice. “I couldn’t go to school, work full time, and still spend time with Stacy. So I had to quit. I had to support us and pay a baby-sitter. There wasn’t time for school, which is immaterial because there was no money for school, either.”

“What about your mother? She appears to have plenty of money.”

“She does.” Laurie shrugged in an attempt to ignore the lingering pain and disappointment. “She told me to deal with my own mistake.”

Her mother’s lack of compassion and support had been a bitter pill to swallow but she had choked it down and did what she needed to survive. Laurie wished she could banish the bitterness that surface when she thought of her mother.

“Stacy is only five. You should have finished by then,” Damien pointed out quizzically.

“I got a late start. She refused to pay for it. She told me I had to stand on my own two feet and pay for what I wanted like everyone else.”

Obviously stunned, Damien only looked at her.

Laurie expelled a harsh breath. “Maybe my father’s desertion hurt her. Maybe she never wanted me either. I don’t know. Whatever the problem was, she took it out on me. She always managed to make me feel worthless. She might have paid for college if I’d done what she wanted.” Her voice trailed into silence as she glanced at the ceiling.

“What was that?” Damien prompted.

“Go to college and find some idiot to marry.” Laurie scowled at the memory of that fierce argument. “I didn’t want to get married. I wanted to write. She threw a fit and cut me off financially.”

Damien shook his head, sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry it was so hard on you.”

“Don’t be,” she countered, smiling as she looked back at him. “I got what I wanted. I’m published and successful. And I have Stacy. I can stand on my own two feet.”

“Miss Independence,” Damien teased lightly.

Laurie joined him at the table and glanced at the newspapers. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

Damien looked at the papers again then back at her. “Computers. I’m a whiz, or so I’ve been told.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised.

He gave her another teasing grin. “SEALs have multiple talents. We don’t just shoot people.”

He folded the papers and stacked them neatly. “Getting a job shouldn’t be a problem.

Mind if I use your computer? Do you have Internet?”

“Help yourself. Dinner will be an hour or so.” She waved him out of the kitchen.

Laurie frowned thoughtfully as he left the kitchen with his pile of newspapers. She pondered the situation as she prepared the beef using her own recipe. The idea that Damien was seriously considering leaving the Navy disturbed her. Did he think that was what she wanted or needed?

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She cut slits in the meat then stuffed sliced mushrooms and chopped onions inside. She put carrots, potatoes, whole mushrooms, and cocktail onions in the baking pan with the meat then poured a whole bottle of teriyaki marinade over everything. After covering the pan with foil, she put it in the oven to cook for an hour.

After checking on Stacy, who was playing happily in her room, she paused in the doorway of her office. Damien was concentrating intently on the computer screen. Frowning again, she watched him scribble notes on a yellow legal pad then click the mouse and focus again on the screen. Disconcerted, she left him to his cyber search.

* * * *

“What kind of beef was that?” Damien asked after eating two full plates of food. “It was great.”

“London broil,” she replied, pleased with his obvious appreciation. “Into the tub, Stacy.”

“Really?” he countered, surprised. “London broil is usually tough, dry, or both.”

Laurie grinned as she started clearing the table. “Not with my recipe.”

Cleaning the kitchen, she let the silence linger. She felt his attention on her as his gaze tracked her. Whenever she glanced at him, he was relaxed, leaning back in the chair as he sipped coffee. She sighed as she slid plates into the dishwasher. Three weeks. Three wonderful weeks.

Only a few days remained before she had to let him go—again. Just knowing he would leave made her miss him already. She would worry about him every second until he came back—if he came back. Despite his job research, she could not imagine Damien as anything but a Navy SEAL.

“Something on your mind?” Damien’s quiet voice cut into her thoughts.

She turned on the dishwasher and slowly turned to face him. “I miss you already,” she said wistfully. “We only have a few more days.”

He looked at her, his dark gaze boring into her for so long she had to struggle against the irrational urge to hide. He pushed the chair back, turned it slightly, and planted both feet firmly on the floor. But he didn’t rise from the chair. He merely kept his impenetrable gaze locked with hers.

“Come here,” he ordered quietly as he held a hand out to her in invitation, as he had that last night at his cabin.

Anticipation warred with uncertainty in a sharp sizzling tingle down her spine. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. Trembling, she crossed the kitchen and put her hand in his. He twined his fingers with hers and tugged her gently into his lap. His arms slid around her. His heart beat steadily in her ear as she snuggled into his embrace.
I belong here
, she thought, contented, and then frowned. Did Damien belong with her, in her world?

“You’ll only miss me for a few days,” he murmured, his warm breath stirring her hair. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not re-enlisting.”

Her heart nearly stopped. She sucked in a sharp breath and pulled back abruptly, her hands gripping his shoulders. He tightened his arms but she resisted, her fingers digging into hard muscle. She blinked and looked at him in consternation.

“But, why not?” she demanded, finally voicing the question that had plagued her for three weeks. Her tone carried a strange mix of alarm and disbelief. “The Navy, the SEALs, I thought that was your life.”

He can’t be serious
, she thought in alarm. Why such a drastic change?

His expression turned serious, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I want more. I want a family, Laurie—this family—you and Stacy.”

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“But you don’t have to ….”

“No buts,” he interrupted firmly, his finger across her lips. “This is what I want.”

He hesitated as he gazed into her eyes. His expression softened even more. A soft light entered his eyes and lessened the intensity. There was desire in those dark eyes and something else—something she had not dared to hope for.

“I love you,” he finally continued softly. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you—

and Stacy.”

She blinked against sudden tears of sheer joy but her vision blurred. Her heart lurched at finally hearing those words. No one had ever said them to her. Her hands tightened convulsively on his shoulders. His finger moved from her lips, slid along the curve of her jaw.

“Is it impossible?” he whispered, a twinge of uncertainty in his tone.

She shook her head slightly. “No. I love you, Damien. I’d give my soul to spend my life with you. But I want you to be happy.”

“I will be,” he asserted quietly but firmly. “As long as I have you.” He cupped her face in his hands, peered intently, almost desperately, into her eyes. “Marry me.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Tears spilled over her lashes and her chin trembled. She bit her lip to quell the urge to cry out.

“Yes.” It was a barely audible whisper as she lay her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, held her close in her brightly lit kitchen. One arm around his neck, the other on his shoulder, she listened to his rapid heartbeat gradually slow to its normal rhythm. He shifted, dug a hand into his pocket.

“Forgot something,” he murmured huskily. “Close your eyes.”

She jerked her head up and looked into his eyes. “Don’t be silly. What did you forget?”

“Close your eyes,” he ordered playfully. Mischief mingled with the serious glint in his eyes.

“All right,” she said and lowered her lashes.

She sat in his lap, felt him hot and hard beneath her but struggled to ignore desire. He lifted her hand to his lips in a tear-jerking tender caress. One at a time, his tongue stroked her fingertips.

A soft sigh shuddered from her and her heart melted all over again. Round cold metal slid over the third finger of her left hand. She forgot to breathe. She lifted her lashes slowly to stare down at her hand resting on his chest. His hand covered hers, leaving her fingers pale against his black T-shirt.

On her finger, the ring gleamed bright in t he glare of the kitchen light. Small diamonds glittered and twinkled around the shiny emerald. The platinum band set it off perfectly. Emerald green sparkled and winked at her.

“I ….” Emotion clogged her throat, robbed her of speech.

She lifted her hand to the curve of his jaw, the emerald winking against his tanned skin as she met his hungry gaze. It was stark desire tempered by love.

“Like it?” he asked lightly.

Unable to speak, she leaned closer and covered his mouth with hers as the tears flowed.

She had never been this happy in her life. Her lips moved over his, her tongue tracing his lips slowly, erotically, before slipping inside to savor the mingled tastes of coffee and Damien. She finally drew back, lifted her gaze to his and gave him tremulous smile.

“I guess you do like it,” he surmised gently, his eyes tender. He glanced at the ring then back at her. “I love you—always.”

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Winding her arms around his neck, she snuggled closer and replied huskily. “I love you—always.”

Her heart soared but her brain wondered what Damien would do without the SEALS.

* * * *

Two days later, Laurie stood in her front yard and waved at Damien as he left on his motorcycle. Stacy ran up and tugged impatiently on her hand.

“Is he really coming back?” she demanded with the exuberance of the very young. “And be my Daddy?”

“Yes, Stacy.” Laurie looked down at her very excited daughter and laughed softly. “He’s really coming back to be your Daddy.”

“Good. I never had a Daddy before.” Stacy’s eyes sparkled with pure delight.

Laurie banished the slight twinge of guilt and smiled. “You’ll have one now.”

She led Stacy back into the house, her thoughts already focused on the hundreds of things she needed to do and plan in the next few weeks. Ecstatic, she hugged herself tightly. She was in love. She was getting married. She would finally have the real family she had deep down wanted since she was younger than Stacy.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on her mother’s face. Marjorie had badgered her for years to find some nice, rich young man and get married. Laurie knew, however, that her mother would not approve. In fact, she would be appalled. But even her mother’s predicted disapproval did not lessen the anticipation. Laurie settled into her recliner with pen and notepad to plan her wedding.

Damien had left the details to her but agreed to her suggestion of a small, intimate, informal gathering rather than a big splashy affair that would not suit either of them. After scribbling a very basic list, she gave in to her urges and dropped the notepad. She grabbed the nearest phone and dialed her mother’s number. Since her mother, naturally, did not answer the phone, Laurie was forced to leave a message. But she took a perverse satisfaction in imagining her mother’s shock when she heard the message. Grinning, Laurie returned to her wedding plans.