LITMIR.BIZ

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red hair.

      Hannah’s mother?

      The approaching woman clung to a tri-folded flag. No red showed, in reverence to the blood shed. Mike had seen more than enough of that symbol in the past few months to last a lifetime. He wouldn’t be standing here in this awkward silence if his Choker Whites hadn’t been stained by a young widow’s tears three months ago.

      Hannah had never mentioned having a father who’d died in service to his country. Come to think of it, Hannah had never mentioned a father. Or a family. He knew every curve of her body, but he didn’t really know her at all.

      “Hannah,” the woman called out, “they’re waiting for you over at the Officers’ Club.”

      “Be right there, Mother. Just give me a moment—”

      But Hannah’s mother wasn’t about to be dismissed that easily. She drew even with him and smiled. “You’re welcome to join us, Commander,” she correctly identified him by rank. “Is that a Navy SEAL Trident…” Her gaze swept over his budwiser and the ribbons on his chest that proved he led his team from the front lines and not behind a desk. Which was the only reason he could face those widows at all. Her smile faded as she settled on his name tag. “Commander McCaffrey?”

      “The Mike McCaffrey? Navy SEAL extraordinaire?” The query came from a younger woman. Shorter, chubbier, more blond than redheaded and pushing a baby stroller. “Commander of SEAL Team Eleven? The team that drills with my sister’s squadron every year in Fallon, Nevada? The same Mike McCaffrey who drove my sister to the airport in Reno last summer—”

      “Enough, Sam.” Hannah cut her off with a look. Mike didn’t know what that look meant. Only that he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.

      The sister turned wide green eyes on Hannah. A Stanton trademark if he wasn’t mistaken.

      “I see my reputation precedes me.” He raised an eyebrow in question. He’d driven Hannah to the airport, but she’d been bumped from the flight. From there they’d checked into a hotel suite and gambled with their friendship—a lose/lose proposition at best. One he couldn’t regret. But whatever her family thought they knew about him, it wasn’t good.

      “All bad,” Hannah assured him.

      No doubt.

      He felt an urgent need to break the ice with a better first impression. “How about introductions?” he insisted, tucking his cover under his arm.

      True to form, Hannah gave in to his request with the grace of good manners. “Commander…my mother, Rosemary Stanton.”

      “Ma’am.” He extended his hand.

      Her mother didn’t.

      “Samantha, Hannah’s sister,” the sister latched on to his hand, “her younger, recently single sister. Should I call you Mac or Mike, Commander?” She pumped his arm as she pumped him for information, but it would have been hard not to notice the mother’s cool reception. The simple fact that they even knew his name should have told him something. He’d hurt Hannah. Of course he’d chosen that route as being the least complicated.

      “It’s Mac.” He smiled anyway. “Mike gets confusing in the field.”

      “Mike is the phonetic letter M,” Hannah offered the explanation.

      He had his own. She’d called out Mike, not Mac or McCaffrey when he’d come inside her, and she’d called out Mike just a few minutes ago.

      “So, Mac,” the sister said, “are there any more like you at home?”

      “As you can see, I’m one of a kind.” He managed to extract his hand while evading her real question. He had a brother. Not to mention four sisters.

      Hannah’s sister assessed him with the same openness as in her demeanor. She had a pretty face and generous curves beneath a gauzy summer dress. She also had a kid and no wedding band. She’d said she was recently single.

      Divorced? Widowed? In his experience widows wore their rings a lot longer than recently. But anything was possible. The flag her mother carried could belong to her. Samantha Stanton seemed to expect something from him, and it wasn’t his shoulder.

      He glanced at the stroller. The sleeping rug rat squirmed, scrunching its face until it turned cherry red. He recognized that look thanks to his half-dozen nieces and nephews, glad that was one diaper he didn’t have to change. Three of his four sisters were married, two with kids. The youngest, Meg was still single. So was their brother, Buddy. But while they all shared the same gene pool, Buddy had that something extra that made him special.

      Of course, every mother thought her kid was special. “Cute kid.” It was the right thing to say.

      Samantha Stanton beamed at him. “Do you like children, Commander?”

      “Mac,” he reminded her. “Sure.” He shrugged. “As long as they’re somebody else’s.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      “EXCUSE ME, I have a cake to cut.” Hannah left McCaffrey and her family, but especially Mac, to make of her exit what they would. She had to get away before she did or said something she might regret.

      He liked kids as long as they’re somebody else’s. What else had she expected?

      “Hannah! Hannah, wait up.” Sammy pushed the stroller at a slight jog to keep up with Hannah’s military stride. “He didn’t mean anything by it. He thinks—”

      Hannah stopped short, turning on her sister. “I know what he thinks, Sam. Excuse me, Samantha,” she corrected.

      “Excuse me?”

      “Oh, come on, Sammy, you’ve never gone by Samantha a day in your life! What’s with you? Flirting with Fallon’s father. Pretending to be her mother—”

      “I never did any of that. He just assumed.”

      Hannah took a deep breath, deep enough for the flush of anger and jealousy to fade just a little. She was only picking a fight with her sister because she wanted to go fifteen rounds with Mac.

      “I know, I’m sorry.” Hannah glanced toward McCaffrey, who was still talking to her mother. His assumptions played into Hannah’s deepest fears—that in the end it would be Sammy raising their daughter. “Have I told you today how much I love and appreciate you?”

      “Don’t go getting all mushy on me now.”

      “I know I don’t say it often enough.”

      “Forget it,” Sammy said. “I know you’re upset. And I didn’t help any by playing devil’s advocate.”

      “You’re not the only one.” Hannah nodded toward their mother. A few minutes ago she’d snubbed McCaffrey, now they were engaged in animated conversation. “What in the world do you suppose they have to talk about?”

      “The weather?”

      “Funny.”

      “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe,” Sammy said with real regret. “You and Mom are cut from the same cloth. Neither of you would ever air your dirty laundry in public.”

      Hannah returned her full attention to her sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “It means Mom’s going to keep mum. I think she invented the term soldier on. And you…I don’t know why you ever left active duty for the reserves in the first place. The uniform suits you. You button up all your emotions inside that white jacket, and they reward you for it with those ribbons worn in place of your heart.”

      “I’m not emotionless,” Hannah denied. “I just keep my feelings to myself. Do you honestly think I don’t feel anything?”

      “Then you deserve a Purple Heart. Because if you’re bleeding, nobody knows it. Least of all

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