She squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands, a deep sorrow tormenting her to the breaking point.
She’d felt it while he was away for desert training six weeks ago. That first-time separation had opened her eyes, scared and confused her. For without the physical passion, she realized they were on the same road, traveling in opposite directions. She loved him deeply, yet they wanted different things, and for a while, she let herself believe she could change him, change his wants to hers. He was thrills and chills, wanting only her and the corps in his life. She wanted a home and fat babies—and stability. The only thing they wanted mutually was each other.
Maxie knew blood-jolting desire wasn’t enough.
And it was the sole reason she couldn’t face him right now.
One look, one touch and she would never do what she had to do. His stare bore too much power, his kisses too much steam, and he knew how to make her forget. Their passion was always so strong, she had trouble seeing beyond it. Until now.
They were afraid and seeking some control in a hopeless situation. He was leaving and wouldn’t believe it was best to wait until he came back, that if they really loved, time would be on their side. Marriage in a panic was reckless, and getting unmarried would be much harder.
No, she thought, nothing could be harder than this. Yet she was willing to risk everything not to make a huge mistake.
Maxie glanced at the clock again and groaned, listlessly crawling onto the bed and curling into a tight ball. She tried not to imagine her groom, what he was thinking, the hurt he was feeling. If only he had listened...if only time wasn’t so short...if only there wasn’t a war waiting for him...
Clad in his dress blue uniform, Kyle Hayden’s spine was straight as a rifle stock, his eyes forward, his gaze on the chapel door. She’ll be here, he thought. Any minute. Around him, guests and attendants whispered, the tick of the church clock sounding like a gong in his head. His buddies were lined up alongside him, his older brother, Mitch, offering excuses: traffic, a flat or a woman’s incredible need to be late for every major function in her life. Yet the longer Kyle waited, the more he imagined her in an accident, bleeding somewhere where he couldn’t get to her. He’d already sent two of his pals off to search for her. If she was okay, she would have let him know, he thought. Maxie wouldn’t do this to him. Maxie wouldn’t make him wonder.
Maxie loved him.
He believed. And he waited.
Waited past the time of the ceremony.
Waited as their guests left, his humiliation hidden beneath the granite expression he’d perfected over the years. His eyes never leaving the door, Kyle let his hurt and anger escalate and even as his heart leaped when a figure slipped into the chapel, he cursed himself for forgiving her so easily in those few seconds. Until he saw her mother and the look on her face. The sympathy and pity Lacy Parrish sent him was enough to kill Kyle where he stood.
He dropped Maxie’s wilting bouquet and with his white barracks cover tucked under his arm, he left the church with the measured cadence of a marine going off to war. Which was exactly what he had to do. Married or not
Less than twenty-four hours later, dressed in desert beige camouflage utilities, Kyle stood in formation with his platoon, his body weighted down with his pack, bedroll, ammunition and weapons. He didn’t speak to anyone, too aware that his buddies knew he wasn’t the married man he’d hoped to be today. He tried not to imagine Maxie’s face, what she was thinking when she stood him up, what she was doing now. A woman’s sob caught him off guard, and his gaze snapped to a fellow marine, his wife in his arms as she cried and told him she would miss him. Kyle’s throat tightened, the pain in his chest threatening his breathing. That should be me, he thought, tearing his gaze away to scan the crowd of women and children, parents and friends who’d come to see the marines off. He waited for long, dark auburn hair to catch his attention, waited to see her running toward him, begging for his forgiveness and telling him she loved him.
She’ll come, he thought. She won’t let me get on this plane without saying goodbye. Kyle believed and he waited, lagging behind when his platoon filed toward the plane. Still he stalled, back-stepping, searching the mass of people. She’ll come, he told himself. She might have wanted a wait to many him, but she loved him. She did.
A sharp command pierced his thoughts, and he faced his first sergeant.
“Move it, marine! The war won’t wait.”
Kyle obeyed, the last man aboard the aircraft. Yet even as the hydraulics lifted to seal the huge troop carrier, Kyle still hoped, still looked. But as the hatch closed him in with over a hundred other marines, Kyle faced the truth.
And inside, he died.
One
Grand Canyon, Arizona
Seven years later
Maxie paused, the shovel full of soiled hay halfway to the wheelbarrow when she heard the helicopter. The noise vibrated the walls of her barn, disturbing her animals as the pilot made a low-flying sweep of her place before setting down.
“Relax, Elvis,” she said to the horse tethered outside his stall. “You ought to be used to that by now.” She flung the putrid pile onto the heap, shaking her head. The independent pilots the park service hired when they were shorthanded in bad weather usually had Top Gun envy and were always a little showy. Apparently the pilot she was supposed to board for the next week or two wasn’t beyond hotdogging, either.
Since it was likely one of the pilots she’d boarded before, she didn’t immediately run out to greet him, estimating it would take him a few minutes to anchor the chopper and walk the hundred yards from the dirt helipad to the barn. If he thought to look for her there. Either way, she didn’t want company. Usually the service put the temps up in hotels or at Mrs. Tippin’s Bed and Breakfast, but with half the rescue teams out with the flu and the tourist traffic unusually high now for the lack of snow, the overflow boarded with her. The occasions were too rare for her to regret that part of the deal she’d made with the service three years ago. She just hoped this pilot didn’t expect her to wait on him. She had too much work to do.
After maneuvering the heavy wheelbarrow down the long corridor of stalls to the truck parked outside the rear entrance, she forced it up the ramp and quickly dumped its odious contents. Maxie hurriedly backtracked, bringing the wheelbarrow back for another load, then hefting the shovel.
Movement at the far end of the barn caught her attention.
She froze. The color drained from her face. Her gloved fingers tightened on the handle.
Rescue me. Oh, someone please take me away from here.
But Maxie Parrish knew no rescue would be coming.
Her worst nightmare was walking steadily toward her.
She would recognize him anywhere, anytime. Even with the fleece collar of his butternut suede jacket pulled up against the wind and his face shielded beneath a black cowboy hat, she knew him. By his stride, the shift of his shoulders... his sexy rocking hips.
Seven years’ worth of guilt and shame threatened to swallow her whole, and Maxie fought the overpowering urge to run.
Instead,
