Forget Me Not (22 page)

Sebastian's expression gave nothing away. "The XO's been hard to work with this last year," he said vaguely. "He has difficulty leading without your help. I'm sure he'll be glad to have you back."

He didn't sound too sure.

Gabe raked his gaze across the men's faces. "We need to discuss what went wrong," he said finally. No one asked what he meant. It was obvious he was referring to the op-gone-bad, the night he was taken.

"Did they treat you all right, sir?" asked Luther with gentle concern.

While marveling that a man could be a SEAL and still retain the qualities of a Boy Scout, Gabe couldn't bring himself to tell the worst of it. "I've got a few marks on me," he admitted. "I'm working on remembering now—guess I blocked some shit out."

He wanted to add that he hadn't betrayed his country, only his tongue wouldn't form the words.

"We don't think you said anything you shouldn't have, sir." It was Vinny speaking up on behalf of the platoon.

"Not you, sir," seconded Teddy, the only black man on the team.

Their absolute faith in him made it suddenly necessary to take a deep breath. Gabe held it until the high emotion in him subsided. "Thanks, guys," he said gruffly. "So is it just that the XO thinks I screwed up or is there something more?"

No one wanted to say anything, but Gabe could tell by their long faces that mere was definitely more. He turned to the master chief. "I want to get together," he said. "Soon."

Sebastian nodded. "How about tomorrow evening? Does anyone have prior plans?"

"Works for me," Westy replied.

"I'm in."

"We can meet at my house," Luther volunteered, "say sixteen hundred hours?"

"Great," said Gabe, looking forward to the reunion. "Listen, I'd love to invite you all in, but my wife might have something to say about it. Besides, you guys are ripe."

They chuckled with satisfaction.

"Training op?" he asked, eager to hear what they'd been up to.

"Just work, sir," Westy answered, sounding bored.

Work was the term they used to describe their routine of patrolling the coast. The men looked forward to the special operations that broke up the monotony. Their boat, a coastal patrol craft called the USS
Nor'easter,
defended the coast ten miles out from Tangier down to the Outer Banks. The very reason Gabe knew so much about the bay's security was that he'd lived and breathed it day to day.

"So no major changes," Gabe deduced.

"Same old thing, Lieutenant," Luther reassured him.

A memory stitched through Gabe's mind, as quick as a needle, before receding. He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated by the elusiveness of his thoughts.

Gazing at his men, it dawned on him that they looked exhausted. "Hey, thanks for coming, guys," he said, freeing them to seek their beds.

He pumped hands and clapped shoulders and watched them wander toward the stairs. The urge to weep made his chest feel full and tight. Not even the dog heard them leave. There were no more barks coming from inside.

As they faded into black, Gabe was left with the hope that one of them would have an answer to the mystery that plagued him.

All around him, party ribbons ruffled gentry in the midnight breeze.

Helen pushed her way into the kitchen, pleasantly winded from a morning run. She drew up short to see Gabe on the other side of the great room, staring out the rear window at the ocean. She'd caught him in similar reflection a number of times, his thoughts so profound that he didn't seem to notice her entrance at all. It wasn't a good sign for a man in his line of business.

She regarded him a moment, noting the way the sunlight gilded his mussed hair, lightening the tips to create a shaggy halo. Something about his posture tugged at her heartstrings. She could read the weight of his thoughts by the slouch of his shoulders. The military bearing that had so attracted her when they'd met was nowhere in evidence. Why was it, then, that she found him more appealing than ever?

Immediately she chided herself for her ongoing obsession with him. Her cheeks flamed anew as she recalled her humiliation last night. She shut the door loudly behind her, causing him to pivot with a start. If he was waiting for her to give her heart, he could wait till hell froze over. She wasn't as foolish as she used to be.

Stalking into the kitchen, she took note of the circles under his eyes, the glint of stubble on his jaw. He looked like he hadn't slept all night.

"Morning," he said, moving in her direction. "How was the run?"

"Good." She turned to the water dispenser for a chilled glass of water. "You're up early." She filled the glass, painfully aware of his steady gaze.

"I heard you leave the house," he said.

"Sorry. I tried to be quiet."

"Have a seat. I'll make us breakfast," he offered unexpectedly.

She cut him a quick, uncertain look. He'd often made breakfast on Sundays—when he was home, at any rate. Had he suddenly remembered that, or was there something he wanted to discuss?

He moved directly beside her, brushing her shoulder as he reached for a mug from the cabinet. Alarmed by his proximity, she scuttled toward a stool and perched upon it.

She tried to get a feel for his state of mind. Following their encounter last night, he'd disappeared into his study, and she hadn't seen him since. If he'd been up all night, he'd had plenty of time to think about her hasty words.
I want you. I want you!
She cringed just to think about it.

She hoped he wouldn't press her about that now. Either she wanted him in her life or not, he would point out. Which was it?

He paused by the coffeemaker, staring at the mug he just poured. "How do you take it again?"

"Cream and sugar." He was actually pouring her a cup of coffee. How sweet was that?

He handed her the brew, prepared the way she liked it. Helen sipped and waited.

"Did you hear the dog bark last night?" he asked.

She cocked her head at the question. "N------o," she said, thinking back.

A smile touched the corners of his mouth. "My men dropped by to see me. They were planning to paper the deck with party streamers, only I heard them coming and foiled their plan," he added, his smile widening to a grin.

Ah, a reunion with his SEAL buddies. Was that what he wanted to talk about?

Nothing made Gabe happier than spending time with his platoon, first squad. A cynical smile curled her upper lip. He'd preferred their company to hers so many times she'd been jealous of them.

"They used to stop by after your disappearance," she recalled. "They wanted to make sure I was keeping my spirits up."

In actuality, it was she who ended up comforting his men, but Gabe didn't need to know that. They'd mourned his absence daily. It had been achingly clear that he'd saved his best for them and given her the leftovers.

Gabe nodded, obviously expecting that they would do that much. "What about Miller? Did he come, too?" His gaze sharpened perceptibly.

Now she understood the point of this conversation. Astute as he was, Gabe had noticed the tension between her and the XO, and he wanted an explanation. She knew a perverse urge to rouse his jealousy—not that doing so made any sense given her renewed pledge to resist him.

"Yes," she heard herself say. "He visited often, but never with the men."

He went as rigid as a pole, gratifying her illogical desire to goad him. "He came alone?"

"Uh huh." She left it to him to fill in the gaps, wary at the same time of misleading him.

He turned toward the refrigerator and opened it, staring at the contents. "Scrambled eggs?' he asked.

"Oh, sure."

He took the eggs and a bag of bread out of the fridge and laid them on the counter. "So what did you and Miller used to talk about?" he asked mildly.

His tone could not disguise a hint of jealousy. Satisfaction coursed in Helen's veins, making her heady for more.

He started opening cabinets, hunting for a bowl to break the eggs in.

"Second cabinet to your right," she directed him. She needed to tread carefully. On the one hand, she didn't want to ruin Gabe's ability to work with Miller in the future. At the same time, she longed to toy with him as he'd toyed with her in the car last night. "He expressed concern, is all. He wondered if I had enough money. Did I need a shoulder to cry on? That kind of thing." She shrugged, letting her words imply what they would.

Gabe turned and met her gaze. "Did he tell you any details about my last operation?'

Her expectations spiraled downward. "No, nothing," she recalled. "Why? You think your XO had something to do with your disappearance?" The thought appalled her, but she wouldn't put it past the sneaky bastard.

Gabe picked up an egg and cracked it neatly on the bowl's edge. "Speculation," he muttered. He repeated the process with four more eggs and started whipping the yolks. It was impossible to tell from his austere profile what he was thinking.

He poured the eggs into a hot pan and swiveled in her direction. "Did you cry on his shoulder?" he asked, a banked fire in his eyes.

Delicious heat stole through her. He
was
jealous! Why that pleased her so immensely, she couldn't say, especially when she'd sworn up and down that their future together was over. And now that she'd incited Gabe's jealousy, she needed to downplay Miller's part. "No," she said, "I didn't."

"Never?"

"Never."

"But he hit on you," Gabe insisted.

She shrugged. "He always had a reason for showing up— some document I had to sign, or to hand me a pamphlet on grief. Eventually he asked me out, and I turned him down. That's it."

Except that it took a half-dozen rejections for her to get her point across.

Gabe turned toward the stove. "You'd tell me if you and he had a thing going," he said, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

The Gabe she'd married had never suffered a moment's doubt about her faithfulness. He'd been that confident of his sexual prowess and his desirability. "I'd tell you," she found herself assuring him. Immediately she asked herself why she was protecting Gabe's feelings. In the end, she was going to leave him anyway.

But first she'd drag him to her parents', if only to prove to herself that he could flip the switch and turn into the old Gabe without warning.

She'd come up with the idea last night, while lying in bed simmering with shame and frustration. "How would you like to go to Annapolis tomorrow?" she queried, putting her decision into words.

He seemed distracted by the question. "What for?"

"My parents have been dying to see you." She watched him fluff the eggs with a deft hand. "They're threatening to come down here, but maybe you'd like to get away for a while."

He was quiet so long she rolled her eyes. Jeez, it wasn't like the man had a packed schedule!

"Tomorrow's Monday," he stalled. "Don't you have to go to work?"

"I can afford a few days off." Not really, but desperate means called for desperate measures. Besides, she wanted to get this over and done with.

Her father had a gift for transforming Gabe into the quintessential SEAL. Something about his commanding presence called up Gabe the Machine, a coldly detached individual obsessed with national security and international concerns. If she needed proof that that Gabe still existed, she had only to place him in her father's presence. He would forget all about Helen and Mallory and his new life with them.

Gabe transferred the eggs onto two plates, plopped toast beside them, and deposited the plates on the breakfast bar. "Okay," he agreed, handing her a fork. "Mal and I are busy today, though. And I'm meeting with my squad tonight."

"I hope you're not meeting over here," Helen said, casting a glance at the untidy living room.

"No, Luther volunteered his place."

She pictured Veronica's effusive welcome, and her appetite dwindled.

"It was his idea," Gabe assured her, settling on the stool next to her, his long legs planted firmly on either side.

"What are you and Mallory doing today?" she asked. "Staining the deck?'

"Nope." He took a huge bite out of his toast

Helen eyed him steadily. "Well, what then?"

"Can't tell," he said, pretending to zip his mouth shut.

A secret. Helen's heart fluttered. He was doing it again, making himself irresistible.

"You're going to fix my Jeep," she guessed, telling herself he was just manipulating her. He'd reel her in till she was his, and then he'd treat her as he had before.

"Not yet. Don't you have somewhere to go today?"

"It's Sunday," she pointed out.

"Maybe you could go to church. Take Leila with you."

She let out a disbelieving laugh. "Leila is Muslim, Gabe. Look, if you want me out of the house, just say so. What time do I need to be gone?"

He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Before eight-thirty?"

Shaking her head in bemusement, Helen finished her meal. "Thank you for breakfast," she said, crossing to the sink to rinse her plate. She could feel Gabe eyeing her backside, where her spandex shorts hugged her thighs. It was only six-fifteen in the morning. Mallory would sleep for at least another hour.
Plenty of time to indulge in some satisfying sex,
came the wistful thought.

She shut off the water with an impatient gesture. The man was testing her restraint. One minute she vowed to have him out of her life forever; the next she was wishing he'd make love to her. She abandoned the sink and strode deliberately down the hall.

P
ulling into the driveway several hours later, Helen found Gabe and Mallory stacking stones in the alcove between the zigzagging stairs. As she stepped out of the car, Gabe glanced up, sending her a look of hopeful expectation.

Helen hesitated. That was definitely not a look she'd seen before.

She stepped from the car and approached the pair warily. A mound of irregularly shaped rocks obstructed the driveway. It wasn't gravel or fill, but beautiful river rocks of various hues: rose, violet, amber, and orange.

"We're making a rock garden!" Mallory blurted, taking in her mother's look of confusion.