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indulge her status of favored aunt—and, work out some of her own frustrated baby fever pangs.

      “Five kids!” Rick shook his head and whistled to himself, low and long.

      “What’s wrong with that?” she demanded, instantly on the defensive.

      “Whoa, Aunt Tracy,” he said, taking one hand from the wheel long enough to hold it up in mock surrender. “I only meant it’s hard to imagine Meg—or John, for that matter—having five kids.”

      “Oh.” Her protective instincts subsiding just a bit, Tracy said, “Okay. It’s just that a lot of people make a big deal out of how many kids she has. And I don’t figure it’s anybody’s business but Meg and John’s. Besides, who says the nuclear family has to be limited to 2.5 children?”

      He chuckled and shook his head. “Not me. I don’t see the appeal in having kids, but like you said, that’s their business.”

      “Good, because she’ll probably make sure you get to meet the whole brood.”

      Rick’s eyes widened at the thought until he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Apparently, the very idea of being surrounded by kids was enough to turn the big bad Marine pale as a ghost. Still the confirmed bachelor then, she thought with a wistful sigh.

      Not that she would ever have had a chance with him anyway. But she wanted a man who wanted the same things she did. Home. Family. A big, sloppy dog.

      “You’re excited about seeing the kids, aren’t you?”

      “Is it that obvious?”

      “Oh, yeah,” he said and grinned at her. “Your face lit up and there was a distinct gleam in your eyes.”

      “I’m a very good aunt,” she said.

      He looked at her again, this time thoughtfully. “I’ll bet you are.”

      Rick had the feeling that Tracy was pretty damn good at whatever she did. She’d always had a soft heart. And, he might remember her as being an annoyance, but he also remembered just how smart she was. With perfect clarity, he recalled how humiliated he’d been to have a fourteen-year-old girl tutor him in geometry. Of course, without her help, he might still be sitting in Mr. Mofino’s classroom, staring blankly at the chalkboard as though trying to decipher ancient hieroglyphs.

      Back then, all he’d wanted to do was play football and spend every other spare minute with Meg. She had been his first real love and he’d been sure that they would be together for the rest of their lives.

      He pulled in a deep breath and let himself remember the night that particular dream had died.

      It was the night after high school graduation. They were supposed to meet at the gym, then drive to Reno and get married. Stupid, he told himself now. But at the time, it had all seemed so romantic. So adult. Suitcase packed, graduation money in his pocket, he’d driven to the gym and parked in the shadow-filled lot to wait for her. Hours passed, and at first he’d assumed she was having trouble getting away. Then later, he’d found other, more complex excuses for her. At last, he fell asleep only to wake up as dawn filtered through the darkness. He was still alone.

      Naturally, he’d driven straight to Meg’s. Convinced that only illness or a broken bone could have kept her from their rendezvous, he’d been surprised when she’d hustled out of the quiet house in her bathrobe to meet him on the lawn.

      All these years later, he could still hear her voice, tinged with regret.

      “I’m sorry, Rick. But I just couldn’t go through with it.”

      “But why?” he’d demanded, and made a grab for her, which she quickly sidestepped.

      “I can’t explain it, really,” she said as a single tear sneaked from the corner of her eye. “But it just doesn’t feel right.”

      “Right? Of course it’s right,” he argued. “We love each other.”

      Meg shook her head. “I can’t marry you. Not now. Not like this.”

      “When, then?” he asked, following her as she backed up toward her house.

      “Rick, please understand,” she said in a strained whisper. “I don’t...I can’t...” She shook her head, turned around and bolted for the safety of her house.

      Left alone in the dawn silence, Rick had taken what was left of his eighteen-year-old heart, wrapped it up in his battered pride and gone home himself. The next day, he’d left early for college, spending the summer working as far away from Juneport, Oregon, as possible.

      Meg wrote to him, months later, apologizing again before informing him that she was now engaged to marry his best friend, John Bingham.

      By then though, he’d already come to believe that Meg had done them both a favor by backing out of their plans. Love’s wounds are deep, but when you’re young, they heal fairly quickly.

      Once out of college, Rick had entered the Marines as an officer. He liked his job. His life. And every once in a while, he silently thanked Meg for having been smarter than he was so long ago.

      Besides. Five kids? No matter what dear Aunt Tracy thought, the idea of five kids was enough to give him cold chills. Of course, since he was in no hurry to get married, that wasn’t something he bad to worry about.

      He’d managed to avoid any permanent entanglements for thirty-two years. Not that he had anything against marriage as a general rule. Rick squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He came from a long line of Happily Ever After marriages. Not one couple on either side of his family had ever been divorced, and he had no intention of being the first.

      God knew, he’d seen first hand just how tough military life was on spouses. Relationships crumbled with sad regularity. Rick wasn’t about to get married when he knew damn well that he couldn’t give a wife the kind of attention and devotion she had a right to expect.

      He was a Marine, first and foremost. And not many women could understand, let alone accept that.

      “So,” Tracy asked, and her voice brought him out of his reveries, “what are your brothers up to? Have they made you an uncle yet?”

      Rick laughed at the idea. “Heck, no. There’s not a woman alive who’d be willing to put up with either one of them.”

      “Oh, very nice,” she said, a soft smile on her face.

      Had she always had that tiny dimple? he wondered.

      “They’re in the Marines too, aren’t they?” she asked.

      He nodded. “Andy’s a lieutenant and Jeff is a gunnery sergeant. They’ll both be home for the reunion.”

      “And you’re looking forward to seeing them.”

      “Oh, yeah.” The Bennet family hadn’t all been together in one place in years. “It’s been way too long.”

      “Imagine. All three of you becoming Marines.”

      “Not so hard to figure with a retired sergeant major for a father.”

      “No, I guess not.” She laughed, and Rick smiled at the soft, almost musical sound of it. Something inside him tightened as he realized he was really enjoying himself.

      With Tracy.

      Scowling, he told himself to keep his mind on his driving and off the idle fantasies beginning to swirl through his brain.

      “Do you remember,” she asked next, “when Andy swiped your bike, left it on the beach and it went out on the tide?”

      Grateful for the distraction, he asked, “Remember it?” Shaking his head, he said, “The guy still owes me thirty-five dollars for that bike. I delivered newspapers for months to earn the money to buy it.”

      “Poor baby,” she cooed.

      “No sympathy from you, apparently.”

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