Page 18 of Full Surrender


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Her heart ached at the admission. She’d wondered about the timing before, but she’d written it off as a coincidence. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“I knew I wasn’t going to personally locate you or anything like that,” he said with a quiet seriousness she’d never heard from him before, like a note out of synch with the rest of the song. She suddenly sensed she didn’t know this man half as well as she thought she did.

“But you didn’t join the navy because of...that, did you?” She’d been about to say “because of me,” but she could hardly dare to formulate the idea in her head much less ask out loud if it was true. She couldn’t bear to think her ordeal had had such a profound effect on him. It was bad enough she and Christina’d had to endure it. That their families had worried themselves sick—literally. Stephanie’s mother had suffered a nervous breakdown that had led to hospitalization, leaving Stephanie to come home to a much-changed family.

And, oddly, more than a little guilt for her mother’s illness.

“It wasn’t like I came up with the idea on the spot.” Danny eased off the guitar and lifted it into an open case on the deck behind him. “Coming from a family with so much has always made me feel guilty somehow. Like I’d won a cosmic lottery and hadn’t really done anything to deserve it. Plus, I never enjoyed the time I spent behind a desk, even though I went to school for architecture.”

She’d vaguely recalled that he held some kind of technical degree. Perhaps that had been another sign of the navy lieutenant lurking within the easygoing rocker, but she’d been so busy enjoying his fun and spontaneous side that she hadn’t really taken the time to understand the whole man.

“So you’d been thinking about going into the military before then.” Relief flowed through her. She took another tiny sip of the whiskey to keep her warm as the night air turned cooler.

“Yes.” He slid closer to her, draping an arm around her shoulders. “But when I heard you and Christina were being held prisoner...”

He tensed and she wished she hadn’t asked about this. Not tonight when he’d just come home and it should be a happy occasion.

“I didn’t mean to bring this up,” she blurted, even knowing she couldn’t undo words already spoken. “That is, we don’t have to talk about that time if you don’t want to.”

“If you’re going home to Cape Cod with me, it’s better you know about this now anyhow.” His hand rubbed along her shoulder and down one arm, warming her. “My family all remembers that you were a big part of the reason I went into the navy. I wouldn’t want you to be caught off guard by anything they might say. Not that anyone would have a reason for bringing it up.”

* * *

DANNY WATCHED Stephanie’s face as she processed the news. Her profile was shadowed, the glow spilling out onto the deck from the house not providing much light. But he could tell she was surprised. Upset.

A furrow creased her forehead, her lips pursing into a frown.

“I never meant to put anyone in danger for my sake.” Her voice was thready. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arm.

He knew she wasn’t just thinking about him and his service. He’d read her book. Remembered her mother had had a breakdown that led to severe pneumonia while Stephanie had been held captive. She’d come home to find her mom hospitalized and near death. While her mom had lived, he wasn’t sure what their relationship was now. When he’d known Stephanie, they hadn’t been close.

“You didn’t do anything,” he reminded her gently as he pressed her nearer to warm her up. “I was pissed off that a foreign situation was so hazardous that members of the media could be snatched off the street. That warranted getting involved and made me sorry as hell I hadn’t signed the paperwork sooner.”

Those few weeks after she’d been taken—before he’d entered the navy—had been a nightmare. His family had convinced him to try diplomatic channels. Financial channels. They’d used their international business leverage to try to get answers. They’d offered money to shadowy figures who might have leads. And all the while, Danny had seethed. He’d broken most of his knuckles during those three weeks, punching doors, walls and even—he sorely regretted—his younger brother’s nose. Poor Kyle had barely commented on the situation.

Even now, Danny had to unclench his fists as he remembered the paralyzing inability to help her.

That helplessness was a feeling that he refused to ever experience again. Because any help she needed now, he planned to provide. In spades. And yet, instead of taking her to bed with him earlier, he’d shown her the guest room and turned to the guitar, scared spitless of screwing things up with her.

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