Return of a Hero (8 page)

“Yes.”

“Navy?”

“No…marine corps.”

Her eyebrows moved upward. “That makes sense.”

“What does?”

“When I saw you, you reminded me of a tough-as-nails soldier. The marine corps image suits you.”

“That’s over with now,” he said in a clipped tone. Moving the bowl of salad to the table, he opened the silver drawer and pulled out the necessary utensils.

“What’s the saying? You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy? I think that applies to you in a marine corps sense. You’re still a marine at heart, Morgan.”

“Probably.” She’d never know that he used those skills to this very day.

“Were you a lieutenant in Vietnam?”

He placed the silverware on the table, his scowl deepening. “No, a captain.”

“My dad was a major in the army. He had a company of men to command while he was in Vietnam. Did you?”

Morgan straightened, feeling the tension thrum through him. “Yeah, I had one hundred sixty men under my command.”

She tilted her head, hearing raw anguish in his voice. “It’s a terrible responsibility,” Laura whispered. “And knowing you the way I do, I’ll bet you cared deeply for each and every one of them.”

“Let’s get on another subject, Laura. I don’t feel like discussing this one very much.”

Laura winced at the anger in his voice. She placed her hands in her lap and bowed her head. “Sometimes I can put my foot in my mouth, Morgan….”

He’d seen her face go pale at his snarling order to drop the topic. Cursing himself, he went over and knelt in front of her, scooping up her hands in his. “I’m the one who should apologize,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to rip your head off.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just that some of your mannerisms make me think of Dad. In some ways you’re alike.”

“A soldier is a soldier,” he uttered tiredly. “The uniform may be different, but underneath it, we’re all the same. Scared men just trying to do our jobs and uphold our responsibilities.”

Murmuring Morgan’s name, Laura pulled her hands out of his and slid them across his shoulders. “I feel you’re like Dad. You may have been overresponsible, Morgan. Maybe you cared a little too deeply, a little too much…. That can leave an open wound in your heart and memory. Even to this day.”

He longed to lean forward and rest his head against Laura. The anguish of the past stared him in the face. “One thing our family prides itself on is responsibility,” he told her in a strained tone. “We have a long military tradition of caring for those under our command. My men were more than numbers to me, Laura. More than just sets of dog tags.”

She threaded her fingers through his short black hair. “I know,” she whispered, “I know….”

A cry lodged in Morgan’s throat as she drew him forward. The softness of her fingertips across his neck and shoulders melted his resolve. He shut his eyes, burying his face against her small, warm body. As she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, he felt a shudder work its way up and out of him. She smelled so good, so fresh and clean, when his world consisted of little more than dirt, sweat and desert. He slid his arms around her small waist, aware of her diminutive size against his bulk and brawn. Yet she was strong in ways that he wasn’t right now, and that knowledge shook Morgan to the core.

Closing her eyes, Laura pressed him against her, his head resting on her bosom. When she felt him shudder, she tightened her arms around him. “Oh, Morgan, you’re so strong for so many, and I know you’re tired,” she murmured against his hair. “I understand that. My dad carried the same terrible weight on his shoulders for almost fifteen years. I saw what his care and concern did to him. Every man was like the son he never had. He knew their names, the names of their wives and children. And whenever one of them died, he wrote a long letter to the wife and family.” She smiled weakly and caressed his hair. “The war isn’t that far away from you, either, is it? It’s a living hell for you today, just as it was years ago.”

Morgan held her tightly, hearing the fluttering beat of her generous heart beneath his ear. Each stroke of her hand on his head eased a little more of the anguish he’d carried so long by himself. When he felt her lips press against his temple, he groaned. God, he had to get a hold on himself for her sake. He wanted to take Laura, right now. He wanted to love her with wild, hungry abandon and hear her cry out with pleasure. But he wouldn’t drag her into his morbid, complicated life. There was no happy ending for them. No, he wasn’t going to ruin one more life.

“Listen to me,” Morgan commanded harshly, easing out of her arms. He saw huge tears in her lustrous blue eyes, and he winced. “Don’t open yourself up to me and my problems, Laura. Dammit, you’ve got enough worries without taking on mine.”

Taking a deep, unsteady breath, she nodded. “It’s my nature to get involved, Morgan. I was adopted, and my parents always said I was a fighter for the underdogs of the world.”

With his thumbs he wiped away the two tears that trailed down her cheeks. “Then fight for someone who’s worth fighting for. I’m not. The die was cast for me many years ago, little swan.”

Laura struggled to control her escaping feelings for him—feelings of desire, not pity. Just the roughened touch of Morgan’s thumbs against her flesh made her ache to love him. There was some deep inner knowing within her that if she could get him to trust her, she could help him in so many ways.

Forcing a slight smile, she murmured, “I guess I’m letting this trauma get to me.”

He caressed her hair. “Yeah, a close call with death can make you do things you’re sorry for later.”

She nodded, biting down on her lower lip. She wanted to say,
Making love with you, Morgan, would be the most right thing in the world for both of us.
But she didn’t. Let him think what he wanted. He brought out all her instincts for nurturing, caring and loving. And every piece of information she’d dragged out of him thus far told her his life was a picture of terrible tragedy. Something had happened to his company in Vietnam. What?

Rising to his feet, Morgan left her side. Despite his pleading, he saw the stubborn set of her chin and the spark of defiance in her eyes. Still, those warming seconds in her arms did nothing but make him starved to explore Laura. All of her….

“Tomorrow morning,” Laura began, her voice low with emotion, “Captain Jim Woodward from the marine corps is coming over. I’ll interview him at ten.”

Morgan leaned against the counter, scowling. A marine officer. The chances of getting recognized increased a hundredfold. He couldn’t risk it.

“No problem. I’ll go back to my hotel and—”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Why did Morgan always think he was unwanted? “If you could tape the session and run the recorder, it would be of immense help to me.”

Shifting uneasily, Morgan grimaced. “Look, I don’t want to butt into your personal life.”

Laughing, Laura said, “Captain Woodward isn’t part of my personal life. He’s a long-time associate whom I frequently contact for marine corps articles, that’s all.” Then she shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I don’t have a personal relationship right now. I’ve spent the past year working on the second of three military history books.” She almost added that her engagement to Major Roarke Anderson, an air force pilot, hadn’t worked out. He couldn’t handle her independence or the fact that she was a celebrated author. But that was a year ago, and her heart had healed, leaving room for someone else. For Morgan, perhaps….

Stymied by her honesty, Morgan paced the room. “I just thought this guy meant something to you.”

“Then you’ll stay and help me? Please?”

Rubbing his chin, Morgan wondered if Woodward would recognize him. It was a chance he’d have to take. Besides, he was relieved to hear Laura was free of any personal entanglements. “Sure, no problem.“

Morgan answered the door. It was exactly ten, and he was sweating, hoping like hell Woodward wouldn’t recognize him. He opened the door to a tall, well-built officer in a tan marine corps uniform.

“The name’s Ramsey,” Morgan said. “Ms. Bennett is expecting you.”

Woodward’s green eyes narrowed slightly. He hesitated fractionally, then held out his hand. “Captain Jim Woodward.”

Morgan shook the officer’s hand. It was similar to his own—callused and strong. This man wasn’t any desk sitter at the Pentagon. If he wasn’t so worried about being recognized, Morgan thought he would like the officer. Part of it was Woodward’s proud carriage, his fearless green eyes and the square set of his face. Another part was the confidence and power he radiated. At one time, Morgan remembered, he had, too. “Come in. Ms. Bennett is in her office. Because of her injury, I’ll be assisting her today.”

“Fine. I know where her office is,” Woodward said, taking off his cap and placing it beneath his left arm.

Laura heard both men coming and sat expectantly in her office chair. Today she wore a teal-blue silk blouse and an ivory skirt and jacket—all business. She never appeared for an interview without wearing a suit. Nervously she kept her hands in her lap. Would Jim’s discomfort over her blindness interfere with the forthcoming interview?

“Hey, tiger,” Jim called from the door. “It’s all over the Pentagon that you bumped your head and hurt yourself. How are you feeling?”

Relief swept through her that the two men got along, and she smiled. “Jim Woodward, you’re a terrible tease at the best and worst of times. I’m doing well. Come in.” She held out her hand. When Jim took it, Laura felt how different his grip was than Morgan’s powerful, yet gentle one.

Jim put his hat on the edge of Laura’s desk and took the chair next to hers. He searched her features. “Is it true? That you were temporarily blinded? All I see is a nasty cut on the temple and a few scratches on your cheek.”

Laura squeezed Jim’s hand, then released it. “Put the emphasis on
temporarily
, Jim. The doctor says two weeks at the most in this situation, and I’ll be good as new.”

Morgan sat down on a chair next to Laura’s. She was putting on a sunny smile and brave act for the officer. At least she didn’t put on an act for Morgan. But he didn’t like the intimacy Woodward had established with her. Was there something between them, despite her earlier protests? Jealousy, an emotion he’d rarely felt before, became screamingly alive within him.

“Actually,” Laura went on, “Morgan has been a godsend for me. I saved him from getting struck by that limo at the airport, but he’s saved me from a lot of days without help around here.”

“Morgan?” Jim Woodward lifted his eyes, looking at him for a long time.

Laura frowned, hearing a question in Jim’s voice. “Yes, Morgan Ramsey. I thought you’d introduce yourselves at the door.”

Uncomfortable beneath Woodward’s sudden scrutiny, Morgan tinkered with the tape in the cassette recorder. “We did, Laura,” he managed without reaction. “Are you ready to get this interview underway?”

“Sure. Jim, you set?”

The marine corps officer frowned, reluctantly returning his attention to Laura. “Of course.”

Lighting-quick tension shot through the office and it confused Laura. Why was Jim suddenly stiff and formal? And Morgan was acting oddly, too. If only she could see! Had they taken an immediate dislike to each other, after all? Unable to sort out the reasons, Laura had to settle for starting the interview.

With the interview completed, Morgan left the office. For nearly an hour, Woodward had stared hard at him, as if fixing a memory in the back of his mind. Dammit! He went to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. His face was somewhat altered since 1970, but a mustache wasn’t much of a disguise. He broke out in a cold sweat. What if Woodward mentioned his suspicions to Laura? What if he went to the press?

“Laura, do you know anything about this Morgan Ramsey?” Jim asked confidentially.

She smiled. “He’s an American who works overseas in France. Why, Jim?”

The officer shook his head. “I don’t know. The man looks familiar, but I can’t place his face. I could swear I know him.”

Laughing lightly, Laura murmured, “With your photographic memory, Jim, I’m sure you’ll come up with the answer.”

“He was uncomfortable with me being here. You couldn’t notice it, but I did.”

“I don’t think Morgan is used to sitting still in an office for an hour, taping an interview,” she returned blithely. “He’s strictly the outdoors type.”

“Maybe,” Jim conceded, getting to his feet. “How’d he get that scar?”

“In Vietnam.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, he was a captain in the marine corps during the conflict. Why?”

Shaking his head, Jim muttered, “There’s something I don’t trust about him, Laura. Are you sure you’re safe with him here? You live alone—”

“Jim, no one’s more trustworthy than Morgan Ramsey. Remember, I’ve been on the receiving end of his care since the accident.” Laura got to her feet.

Undaunted, Jim placed his hand beneath her elbow to lead her from the room. “Maybe,” he said. As he guided her to the front door, he lowered his voice. “Look, if you need help, call me. You have my office and home numbers.”

Warmed by his protectiveness, Laura placed a hand on his arm. “Thanks, Jim, but everything’s fine.”

“Who does he work for over in France? Will you find out for me? I want to run a check on that guy. He looks suspicious.”

Stopping at the door, Laura grimaced. “Jim, you’re overreacting.”

“Do you know who he works for?”

Hesitating, Laura bit down on her lower lip. “Well…no, I don’t. I assumed it was for an American company.”

“Check it out for me, will you, tiger?”

“Jim—”

“Please, Laura? Do me this favor?”

Favors were the name of the game at the Pentagon, Laura knew from many years of working with the brass there. They were called blue chips. If a chip was tossed in her direction, she had to reciprocate when the chip was called in by the person who had originally granted the favor. Well, Jim had granted this interview, and now she owed him. If she wanted more cooperation from him in the future, she’d have to acquiesce to his request. “All right, Jim, I’ll find out.”