At Your Command

She pointed toward the gate. “Over there.”

He shifted direction and guided them through the fringes of the lingering crowd. He dipped his head to her ear so she could hear him as they hurried past the band, which was playing a Sousa march. “In your last e-mail, you mentioned something about that honeymoon we missed?”

His lips stayed close and nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.

Honeymoon. She liked the sound of that. Becky wound her other hand around Zachariah’s and hugged herself against his arm. The brush of his lips and heat off his skin sparked something prickly and needy inside her. Maybe this awkward tension between them was nothing more than frustrated physical energy. Maybe once they got the lust—which had been simmering for eighteen months—out of their systems, everything else would fall into place. They could talk. He could lighten up. She could walk away.

Becky stumbled over the momentary hesitation of her feet. Don’t go there.

But, linked to the brace of Zachariah’s arm, she couldn’t fall. And because it had to be brief, she didn’t want to retreat from the time they could be spending together. Not wanting to shout, she waited until the band was behind them before she answered, “I might have an idea or two in mind about that honeymoon.”

“Spread those ideas out. Other than a quick visit to my folks out in Nebraska, you’ve got me for six whole weeks.”

Six weeks? Um, yeah. About that…

“Unless you want to come with me?” he offered. “The ranch should be green and pretty in the middle of summer—the lake water nice and cool.”

Nebraska? Ranch? Lake water? “Do you go sailing?”

“It’s not that big a lake. Fishing, mostly.” He released her hand and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush to his side and hurrying their pace. “But I was thinking more along the lines of skinny-dipping after midnight.”

In lake water? “Is that sanitary?”

“Sanitary? Man, you sure know how to sweet-talk a guy. Here I am, imagining the moonlight on your bare skin, and you’re worried about the greeblies in the water.”

“So there is something in the water.”

“Fish. Hence, the fishing.” He grinned. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She tensed. In the moment. Stay in the moment. “You told me you live on a ranch. Don’t the cows use the water, too—”

“Yo, Clarksie!”

Becky jumped in her skin as a man materialized from between two parked cars and charged toward them, his arm outstretched. He was big, not by Zachariah standards, but big enough that everything inside Becky jerked with the urge to run in the opposite direction.

Zachariah braced for an instant in a protective stance between her and the man. Then the tension rolled off his shoulders along with his duffel bag and he released her to stick out his own hand to greet the man with a handshake. “Action Man!”

While Becky squashed down the startled heartbeat that pounded in her chest, she took note of the dark royal pants and khaki shirt that marked “Action Man” as another military officer. The handshake became a bear hug that involved backslapping, ribald nicknames and seeing who could squeeze the other harder.

Clearly an old friend, judging by the rapid-fire questions about families and work and the “How’ve you beens?”

Not a threat.

Not even anything to do with her.

Way to play it cool, Owens.

The dressed-up Marine pulled an athletic-looking woman up beside him and tucked her under his arm. “I’m as good-lookin’ as ever and I’ve got some of the best prospects I’ve had in a long time. This is Tess.”

“Tess, eh? I’m Zachariah Clark.”

The woman named Tess smiled and took his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Clarksie. Most of it, I couldn’t repeat to my mother. But to hear Trav tell it, it’s all good. Welcome home.”

“Aw, shucks. Thanks, ma’am.” Zachariah leaned forward. “Is she the one you e-mailed me about?”

The man named Travis didn’t even hesitate. “She’s the one, period. I’ve still got some details to work out, but—”

As embarrassed by her knee-jerk reaction as she was relieved, Becky took a deep breath and stepped forward to be introduced. “Do I have to hang back like the paparazzi? Or do I get an introduction, too?”

“Geez. Sorry, darlin’.” Quickly shifting his stance to pull Becky into the conversation, Zachariah rested his hand at the small of her back and made the introductions. “Travis McCormick, this is my…my wife.” The fingers at her back contracted. An apology? Or did the word feel as awkward on his tongue as it had on hers? “This is Becky Owens. Becky Clark.” The fingers tightened another notch and she felt his gaze sweep across her face. “This is the Beckster.”

Like their missing wedding rings, her new name was another topic they’d never had a chance to discuss.

A cheesy grin split Travis’s face. “What, you forget you were married already?”

They moved past the awkward moment with more handshakes and an introduction to Travis’s girlfriend, Tess Bartlett, whom Becky learned was a physical therapist.

“So how do you know Zachariah, Captain McCormick?” Becky asked, curious to meet one of his friends.

“It’s Travis, and don’t worry about the title.” Despite the woman at his side, Travis seemed to be a bit of a flirt. “Clarksie and I served together on a Special Operations team—until I got wounded.”

At the mention of the word wounded, the good-natured camaraderie between the two men ebbed as though they were rowdy boys who’d been reprimanded by their parents for too much roughhousing. Becky could sense the stiffness that crept into Zachariah’s posture.

“I see you’re not in Charlie uniform—your camouflage work gear,” Zachariah pointed out. “Does that mean the top brass denied your request to return to a Special Ops team?”

Travis waved aside his concern. “I didn’t give them the chance. I asked to be transferred to the training division. General Craddock approved it yesterday. I’m going to be teaching the yahoos who’ll be taking your place one day.”

“Congratulations, man.” Becky glanced up. Despite a smile, Zachariah’s jaw had tensed. “What changed your mind?”

“I realized I couldn’t give the hundred-and-ten percent S.O. teams need anymore. But I figure I can eke out about a hundred-and-one percent to whip some of those new boys into shape. I’ve learned I make a pretty good coach.”

Seeing the blush that dotted Tess’s cheeks when Travis smiled down at her, Becky had to wonder just what kind of “coaching” Zachariah’s pal was talking about.

“I get to choose my own staff.” Travis jabbed Zachariah on the shoulder and grinned. “I could use a big hard-ass like you on the team.”

Zachariah’s hand fisted at Becky’s back before he broke contact completely. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do. I can always use a man with good hands.”

Afraid she was witnessing another reappearance of the secretive stranger who’d been so intense that he’d frightened two little boys, Becky linked her arm through Zachariah’s. “Can’t we all?”

Tess and Travis laughed right along with her, the double entendre buying a few seconds, giving Zachariah’s mood a chance to pass. His deep, rumbly laugh finally joined in. He linked his fingers together with Becky’s and lifted her hand to claim it with a kiss.

Like the laugh, she couldn’t tell if his silent thank you was for real or for show. Still, his words sounded sincere enough. “Duty calls. Thanks for showing up, Trav. It feels good to be on home soil. Good to see you.”

Travis nodded. “Well, you’ve got a homecoming I’m not going to keep you from any longer. Take care, buddy.”

“You, too.” The two men shook hands. “I’ll call you soon, I promise.”