Craving Her Soldier's Touch. Wendy S. Marcus

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matter how much he may have wanted to explore the possibility of a future with Jaci, the bomb blast that’d killed his men obliterated all possibility of a happily ever after for Ian. She’d never understand or accept what he had to do. What woman would? And the last thing he needed was one more person preaching to him about survivor guilt and overreaction due to grief and mourning. Few people understood the bonds formed in battle when soldiers entrusted their lives to the members of their team. The vow—spoken or unspoken—to look after a brother’s family should he be unable to do it himself. There was nothing Ian wouldn’t do for his men—overseas or stateside. And nothing they wouldn’t do for him.

      If they were still alive.

      But they weren’t. So it fell to Ian, the last man standing, to look after their wives and children, so they weren’t left to struggle like Ian, his mother and sisters had after his father’s death. To preserve their memory, honor their dedication to their country, and make sure no one tried to suppress, diminish or taint either out of anger, resentment or feelings of abandonment, like his mother had.

      Their children would grow up with a man around. Ian. Not their fathers, but the next best thing. Their children would grow up knowing their fathers loved them and fought to make the future safer. For them. Their children would be allowed to remain children because Ian would do his best to fill the role of man-around-the-house.

      For four households.

      His life was no longer his own and the stress of the responsibility he’d taken on and the promises he’d made weighed heavily on his already overburdened psyche.

      He’d reached his limit, could not deal with one more woman, one more responsibility in his life. And yet, seeing Jaci again, feeling her, remembering carefree times, Ian couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her, of returning to his condo. Alone. To the nightmares that awaited him whenever he closed his eyes. To the anxiety and tension and overall feeling of instability that plagued him since his return.

      She stopped at her door.

      His heart pounded. His chest grew tight. Sweat pooled in his armpits.

      “Please,” he said. God help him he was begging her to let him stay in her presence, to keep him from retreating into the dark, torturous depths of his mind.

      She took out her key. “You are not coming in.”

      Desperation gripped him. Panic.

      She unlocked the door and opened it.

      A baby cried out from inside, clearing his head instantly.

      Ian stood in shock unable to move.

      Jaci had a baby? No way she’d been pregnant before they’d slept together. He’d monopolized every moment of her spare time for the four months beforehand. Could she have fallen into another man’s arms so soon after his deployment? Maybe. But not likely. Jaci teased and flirted. A lot. But she was very selective about who shared her bed, at least according to Justin who’d known her since high school.

      It was one of the reasons their night together meant so much.

      Which had to mean the baby was his.

      Taking advantage of his stupor, she escaped inside, closing the door behind her.

      Ian leaned up against the wall, his mouth suddenly dry, swallowing difficult. He was a man teetering on the edge of sanity, a man with no viable means to support himself, or replenish the savings he’d already spent to fulfill his commitment to his fallen brothers.

      And now he was a father, responsible for a tiny, defenseless baby, in addition to everything else.

      A baby no one had bothered to tell him about.

      Justin was a dead man.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “YOU’RE here! Three days early.” Jaci’s conflicting emotions over seeing Ian vanished, replaced by jubilation at the return of her sister. She tossed her bag on the kitchen counter, yanked off her raincoat, and toed off her boots.

      “I tried to call your home phone when we arrived. Luckily Brandon was at the concierge desk,” Jena said. “I didn’t think you’d mind us coming right up.”

      “Of course not. How are you? How was your trip? Is everything okay?” She stripped off her wet clothes right there in the entryway, could not wait to hug her sister and meet her tiny, crying nieces.

      “Why are you all wet?” Jena asked.

      “Pick up for the crisis center.” No sense worrying her sister with the details. In nothing but a tee and panties, Jaci charged across the hardwood floor of her living room in bare feet. “You look fabulous.” A little white lie. She pulled her twin into her arms and squeezed her tight. “I missed you so much. Promise me you’re home to stay.” Her eyes filled with tears.

      Jena hugged her back with equal vigor. “If you promise me that no matter what happens you won’t hate me.”

      Hate her? “Are you kidding me?” Jaci tightened her hold. “I could never, ever hate you. I love you.” She stepped back. “Look at these adorable babies.” She rubbed her cold hands together. “I need to wash my hands and warm up before I touch them. Brrrrr it’s chilly in here.”

      “Only if you’re wet and naked.”

      “So I’m not complaining or anything.” Jaci hurried down the hallway to her bathroom. “But what’s with the surprise arrival?”

      “I was worried about the weather. They’re predicting heavy flooding all along the east coast from the storm, and I didn’t want to miss the charity ball,” Jena called after her.

      “So you can protect me from Jerry Three?” Since she’d stopped responding to all communication from the current head of the family—despite his threats—after that horrible night he’d received the e-mail from Iraq and summoned her to the estate. Where he’d proceeded to unload every negative, hateful thought he’d harbored against her. It’d taken over an hour, during which he’d blocked her exit from his office. And he’d ended his tirade with a smack to the side of the head she hadn’t seen coming.

      Her own fault for underestimating his anger and overestimating how much he’d changed since she’d moved out.

      “That’s Jerald Xavier Piermont the third.” Jena did an impressive impression of their pompous half-brother, a man who’d turned out exactly like the heavy-handed, business-focused, wealth-obsessed father they shared. “You disobedient, classless twit.”

      “You’ve been practicing.” Jaci smiled, slid into her soft fleece robe and tied the sash. It was good to have her sister home. Where she belonged regardless of the secrets she kept. Like where she’d been for the past ten months, why she’d disappeared without a word of warning, and whose genetic contribution was partly responsible for her precious babies.

      “He had the nerve to show up here two weeks ago,” Jaci said. Uninvited. Unwelcome. To demand she stop her childish silent treatment and agree to a date with ‘the most eligible bachelor in the tri-state area’ who Jerry had convinced to meet her. And if she could pretend to be nice for a few short weeks, marriage would unite two powerful families and solidify a highly profitable

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