Return of a Hero (9 page)

“And you’ll call me right away?”

Upset he was pressing so hard, she muttered. “Yes, I’ll call you right away.”

Chapter Five

“W
hat’s wrong? You look worried.” Morgan roused himself from where he was leaning against the drainboard, a cup of coffee in hand.

Laura stood at the entrance to the kitchen. “I do?”

He smiled slightly and walked over, leading her to the chair to sit down. “You never could hide anything with that face of yours.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not a sin. Coffee?”

“No, I’d rather have a glass of orange juice.”

Morgan set his cup down on the table and crossed to the refrigerator. “I noticed you and the captain were on pretty friendly terms with each other.” He poured the juice into a glass.

She laughed softly. “Morgan Ramsey, are you jealous?”

Disgruntled, he placed the glass in front of her, then sat down at her elbow. “I guess I am.”

Reaching over, she found his arm, allowing her fingers to rest on it. “There’s nothing to be jealous of. Jim Woodward is a resource for me when I want to write on a topic involving the marine corps. He’s their public relations officer at the Pentagon.”

Morgan felt his stomach start to knot. Great. That guy would be in a position to have access to more information than most. Had he recognized him? Sweat popped out on his brow. Tearing himself from his fear of being recognized, he gazed over at Laura’s serene features. She appeared untouched in a world that had the capability of slashing someone’s life apart in seconds.

“So why did you appear upset earlier? Did he say something to you?”

She took a swallow of the juice. “He thinks he knows you, Morgan, but he can’t place from where. He asked a favor of me.” The unhappiness came out in her voice and she didn’t try to disguise it. “Sometimes he gets overly protective of me—just like a big brother.”

Morgan held the cup very still between his hands. “What did he want from you?”

“He asked me to find out what company you work for over in France. I told him I thought it was an American one, but wasn’t sure.” She gripped his arm more tightly. “I’m sorry, Morgan.”

He captured her cool, damp fingers by placing his hand on top of hers. “Don’t be. That’s all he wanted to know?”

“Yes, just the name of your employer. I guess he’s going to run a check on you.”

Fear cascaded through him. “Isn’t he jumping to conclusions? Or is he always this dramatic about another man being in your life?”

Her lips quirked. “I know it’s none of his business. He shouldn’t be nosing around like this. I’m disappointed in him. I don’t know why he’s doing it.”

“Maybe the guy likes you a lot more than you realized, and he’s threatened by the fact that I’m here twenty-four hours a day.”

Laura was going to deny Morgan’s statement at first, but his reasoning was logical. Jim did ask her out on a date every once in a while, although she always declined. “Oh, dear. Why am I so naive sometimes?”

“Because you see only the best qualities in all of us, Laura,” he said quietly. “You’re not capable of seeing our worst side—our devious or selfish or greedy side.”

His voice was like a balm over her heart, and Laura managed a strangled laugh. “Guilty as charged. Oh, why didn’t I realize that Jim’s probably jealous?”

“It’s a small thing,” Morgan said, wrestling with his own fears.

“Tell me where you work so I can rectify this situation in a hurry.”

Morgan tightened his hand over hers. “I’m a captain in the French Foreign Legion, Laura. I’ve been there for the past six years. In a few months I can reenlist, if I want.”

“Oh, dear.” The French Foreign Legion! Laura knew a great deal about that particular branch of military service. She’d done a long, thorough article on it for a major national magazine a year ago.

Morgan saw the surprise, then confusion in her widening blue eyes. “When Woodward runs a check on me, he’s going to find a dead end,” he promised. “The Legion never divulges much of anything about the men who serve her.”

Laura’s mind spun with questions and no answers. “You’re right, the Legion keeps every man’s identity and record classified.” And men from all over the world joined the Legion to escape old ways of life, to make new ones for themselves. “Morgan, why did you join?”

“Is this between you and me, or does this include Woodward?”

“No, just me.”

Believing her, Morgan said, “After I recovered from my wounds, I didn’t want to come stateside. I’m a good soldier, Laura, and I felt I’d be of use in the Legion.” That wasn’t a total lie, but it was far from the entire truth. He watched the expression on her face closely. There was compassion in Laura’s eyes, and the way the corners of her mouth pulled in, he knew she felt deeply for him. “It wasn’t so bad, little swan.”

“But, the Legion is so hard on its men! I mean, they’re considered the best of the mercenaries.”

“Hard, yes. But not cruel.”

“And you build bridges for them?”

“Yes, I have a degree in engineering. I build bridges, dig ditches and help clear land for airport runways in some of the most godforsaken spots on this earth. Sometimes we provide protection or perform other military duties.”

“But what about your family? It must be terribly hard on them for you to be overseas like that.”

He hung his head, real anguish serrating him. “Yeah, it’s rough on them,” he admitted thickly.

It was on the tip of her tongue to delve further into his past, but Laura sensed the time was not right. Something terrible had happened to his company in Vietnam. That much she was sure of. And whatever it was, Morgan still carried guilt or grief because of it. Had he gone to the Legion to escape his past? So many men did just that. Perhaps over the next week he would share his reasons with her.

Trying to buoy the sudden despair she heard in his voice, Laura found his hand and gripped it. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. If you want, we could go to a restaurant and treat ourselves. We’ve both been housebound, and I can sense that you’re restless.”

Morgan smiled, wanting to lean forward the press her ripe lips against his mouth. She was still awkward with her blindness, and to go out in public would be exhausting for her. She’d forsaken her own welfare in order to help him. “No, let’s stay here. I’ll make us lunch, and then I’ll get to work typing up that interview with Woodward. Maybe by tonight you and I can get it into some kind of article form.”

Laura murmured his name and slid her arms around him. Resting her head against his jaw, she whispered, “You’re so special, Morgan.”

He embraced her for a long moment, relishing her warmth and softness against him. The fragrance of orange blossoms encircled him, and he inhaled the scent deeply. “Come on, Ms. Bennett, let’s get this dog-and-pony show on the road. We’ve got work to do this afternoon.”

Just being in his arms made her feel safe and loved. She nestled her head against Morgan’s shoulder, content as never before. “I’ll be so glad when I get my sight back, Morgan. So glad….“

“You’d think that after seven days I’d at least be able to see some light, Morgan.” Laura touched the healing cut on her temple as she sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Dr. Taggert just checked you yesterday, Laura. He said the swelling’s going down, but it hasn’t disappeared yet. Give it another week, my impatient swan. Here’s your popcorn.” Morgan brought over a bowl of freshly popped corn and placed it in her lap. She looked fetching in her white cotton gown and lavender robe as she sat in front of the fire. He liked their nightly custom of sitting on the floor, talking, eating popcorn and feeling the warmth of the fire after working all day.

“Thanks.” Laura picked disinterestedly at the popcorn. She felt Morgan lie down nearby, always within an arm’s distance from her. “I’m just getting panicky, Morgan. What if I don’t see?”

He reached over, catching her hand in midair. “You will. I’ve got a gut feeling on this, Laura. Just hang in there. You’re worrying too much, and you aren’t sleeping at night the way you should.”

She laughed abruptly. “Like last night? I sat up screaming during a nightmare, and you almost killed yourself getting to my room.”

“I thought someone had broken into the house and was attacking you,” Morgan said gently. The right toe of his foot still ached from where he’d stubbed it as he ran down the hall to her room.

“Still,” Laura murmured, “you hurt yourself.” She had fallen into his arms, wildly aware of his rock-hard chest beneath her cheek as he’d embraced her. For the next ten minutes, Morgan had held and rocked her as she cried. They were tears of fear—fear of never being able to see again. His strength was now her strength.

Placing the bowl on the carpeted floor, Laura stretched out on her stomach, her hands beneath her cheek as she faced him. The silence settled soothingly around them. “Morgan?”

He watched her eyes beneath the thick gold lashes that framed them. If Laura only knew how beautiful she was, or how desirable…. “Yes?” The word stuck in his throat, his heart beginning a slow, sledgehammer pound.

“Tell me about your family. What’s Aly like?”

Laura was like an elegant swan, lying prone on the carpet, her face shadowed and thoughtful. Morgan rolled onto his side, only inches away from her. “Spunky,” he said, a faraway tone in his voice. “Red haired, tenacious and bold.”

“And Noah? Is he older or younger than you?”

Morgan reached out, taming several strands of her blond hair away from her flushed cheek, placing them behind her small ear. “Three years younger. He’s the better-looking of the two of us.”

Laura smiled, closing her eyes. “That’s
your
opinion, Morgan. How would you describe Noah?”

He laid his head down on his arms and stared across at her. There had been tenderness in her voice. “Reliable. And not as hard or driven as I am.”

“What drives you, Morgan?”

He sighed. “My dad, I guess. He had thirty years in the air force and came out a general. All his life he expected the three of us to go into the service of our choice. With his illustrious career as an example, I wanted to be exactly like him. You’d have to meet him to understand what I’m saying. He didn’t brainwash any of us into going into the military. It was just his presence, his belief in defending this country and the fact that each one of us could make a difference that inspired me, I guess.”

Laura heard the wistfulness in Morgan’s voice. “How did your parents meet?”

“Mom was a nurse over in Korea during the war. Her MASH unit got overrun by the Communists, and the entire staff was taken prisoner. She escaped from the prison about fifty miles north of the demilitarized zone and was in the process of trying to make her way back to South Korea. Dad was flying his plane over the north when he was jumped by six MIGS and was shot down. He bailed out and my mother followed the parachute to where he landed. They teamed up and spent the next week dodging the Communists trying to recapture them.”

Laura rested her head against her hand. “What an exciting way to meet.”

“It was pure hell,” Morgan said. “Dad was wounded, and Mom ended up being the one who got them back to safe territory.”

“And they fell in love during their escape?”

Morgan smiled, watching the sudden animation in Laura’s eyes. “Yes, they did. I guess they fought like cats and dogs. Dad can be a bulldog sometimes—a family trait he passed on to all of us, I’m afraid.” Morgan chuckled. “He was delirious and swore that south was a certain direction. Mom knew it wasn’t. She said they got into a lot of shouting matches on that trip out of enemy territory.”

“Sounds like the three of you children inherited the best from both of them,” Laura whispered. “You have your father’s tenacity and your mother’s sensitivity.”

Rolling over on his back, Morgan tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. An ache to see his family once again overwhelmed him. “If you met my family,” he said thickly, “you’d love them. They’re all individuals, but each one is caring and responsible.”

Laura reached out, her hand coming in contact with his chest. She felt his heart beating hard beneath her palm. “Have you told them you’re here in the States yet?”

Her hand eased the ache in his heart. Morgan turned, looking up into her features. “No—” Her eyes were shadowed with pain—his pain. “It wouldn’t be wise” was all he could say.

“Oh, Morgan, are you sure?” Laura moved into a sitting position, resting her hands in her lap.

“Very,” he growled, rising to his feet. “I’m getting tired, Laura. How about you?”

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Laura got up with his help. Morgan’s shields were back in place. She’d pushed too far into his past. “It’s supposed to be sunny and sixty-five degrees tomorrow. I’d like to plant my begonias. Would you help me?”

Her face was guileless, Morgan thought as he stood next to her, his hand gripping hers. “Yeah, planting something sounds positive,” he agreed.

The phone on her bedroom nightstand awoke Laura the next morning. Unable to check the time, she groped for and found the receiver.

“Hello?” she said, her voice husky with sleep.

“Laura? It’s Jim Woodward. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. “Uh, that’s all right, Jim. What time is it?”

“Nearly nine. Look, I’m sorry to disturb you, but I think you should know something about this guy Morgan Ramsey.”

Pushing the hair away from her eyes, Laura asked, “What?”

“I traced his name through our computers, and there was no Morgan Ramsey in the marine corps during the Vietnam conflict. I know that face, Laura. Right now I’m searching through our photographic files in my spare time. This bothers me. Men don’t go into the Foreign Legion unless they want to escape the past. I’m positive Ramsey isn’t his real name.”

Upset, Laura said, “Look, Jim, I believe him. I
know
Morgan was in Vietnam.”

Woodward laughed tightly. “Then it was under another name. I’m sending this info to the CIA. Maybe they can get a handle on him.”

“Jim, this isn’t necessary!” Her voice had risen, and Laura suddenly realized that Morgan might be able to hear her. She didn’t know if the door to her bedroom was open or closed.