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The SEAL's Baby. Rogenna Brewer
Читать онлайн.Название The SEAL's Baby
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781472026194
Автор произведения Rogenna Brewer
Жанр Современные любовные романы
Издательство HarperCollins
“You were probably too young to remember. But JJ and Liz were our neighbors when we lived in Navy Housing all those years ago. Of course, Liz is gone now, as well.”
“I don’t remember,” Hannah confessed. Those happy days were lost to her, locked up somewhere too painful to remember.
CHAPTER FIVE
PETER PETRONE ARRIVED by taxicab the following morning. Hannah stepped out her front door just in time to watch the cab pull away from the curb. “Peter?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am.”
He wandered up her walkway, briefcase in hand, summer-weight suit jacket flung over his arm. His wrinkled pants, rolled-up sleeves and loose tie had been the norm since college. “Don’t I get a hug?”
“Of course.” She stepped into his outstretched arms.
She’d never slept with him, but her college roommate had. Sydney claimed she couldn’t resist that boyish dimpled grin. Personally Hannah liked the rumpled blond hair and intelligent green eyes behind the wire-framed rims.
The three of them had taken aerospace engineering courses together at CU Boulder—go Buffs—but only one of them was a genius. Syd had dropped out of aerospace altogether. Hannah, a typical over-achiever, had worked hard for every grade she got. For her it had been all about flying anyway.
But for Peter the laws of physics and how to defy them came naturally. He’d had offers from Boeing, Lockheed-Martin and NASA before he’d even graduated. Instead he’d joined forces with a small Boulder-based company, making Hall-Petrone Aerospace Tech and himself rich with his patents.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes, still wondering what the hell he was doing here.
“Look at you,” he said. “So this is what all the well-dressed pilots are wearing to wage war?”
“Drab olive-green is always in season,” she said through tight lips. She knew what was coming next.
“I wish you’d change your mind, Hannah. Come home.”
“It’s not a matter of changing my mind. My mind is made up. It’s my duty to be here.”
“And is it your duty to get yourself killed halfway around the world? For what?”
“I’m not going to debate foreign policy or politics with you, Peter. I made my commitment to the reserves long before I came to work for you. Please, let’s just agree to disagree on the subject. You didn’t fly all this way for an argument, did you? Why are you here?”
“I told you I was flying in for the weekend.”
She tried hard to remember their hurried phone conversation. “You may have said something,” she conceded. Clearly she’d misunderstood. “But, Peter, I have a job to do. The work doesn’t get put on hold just because it’s Saturday.” Not when she had to ready the squadron to deploy on Monday. And she was already late for her first day as Commanding Officer. What an impression that would make. “I don’t have time to entertain company. I have to get to the base—”
“I could tag along,” he offered hopefully.
Hannah almost groaned out loud. A male tagging along was not the image she wanted to present to her squadron her first day at the helm. “That’s really not a good idea.”
“Not for the whole day, just to the base. I scheduled a meeting at the Naval Amphibious Base with a Rear Admiral Bell. He wants a look at the prototype for the fuel cell.” Peter tipped his briefcase. “This could be my biggest military contract yet. We can celebrate at dinner.”
“And that doesn’t seem the least bit hypocritical to you? You object to my contract with the service because it involves personal sacrifice, but you’re willing to contract with the service for personal gain.”
“Hypocritical? Not at all, not if you’re assigned as my Navy liaison. You won’t have to fight. And you’ll be doing your duty from behind a desk in Colorado. You do want to stay home with Fallon, don’t you?”
Oh, great. Now he was going to throw that guilt trip at her. He was worse than her mother. Or in league with her. Hannah felt positive she wouldn’t feel like being wined and dined this evening. But they needed to talk. Big time. “Peter—”
“I’ll take you somewhere nice,” he said. “I’m staying at the Hotel Del Coronado. How does the Prince of Wales Room sound for dinner?”
She knew the hotel’s restaurant by reputation only. “Like you’re going to need a lot of pull.” Not to mention a reservation—unless of course you were a gazillionaire with a company named after you about to go public on the NASDAQ, or was it NYSE? She knew he’d get the reservation, but she was more concerned he might actually have enough clout to get her reassigned.
For whatever reason, her personal merit or some admiral wanting to add “politically correct” to his résumé, she’d been given the opportunity to command. She didn’t think she’d lose it per one civilian’s request. But if she screwed up, the Navy might think she’d be better off serving in another less visible capacity. It would be best if Peter understood her position right from the start.
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