Page 49 of Full Surrender


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A cab honked downstairs, the sound drifting up to her second-floor apartment.

“That’s my ride.” She couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye. Couldn’t bring herself to say half the things she was feeling.

Part of her didn’t want to go, but that was natural, right? Even tough-guy military men must feel some trepidation at heading into a war zone. No wonder she was keyed up.

“Steph.” Danny’s voice, calm and grounding, cut through her frantic thoughts. “I will be thinking about you and I’m going to pray you’re safe.”

The sentiment, so serious after all the ways they’d laughed and played this week, threatened to topple her shaky control. She gave a fast nod, unable to speak without showing her emotions.

“Be careful, okay?” He kissed her hard and fast.

It was all she could do not to cling to him. If only they’d met after she came home instead of now when they were both on the brink of major changes in their lives. Him with his music. Her with her photography.

“I will.” She eased back enough to look up into those forest-green eyes. “Maybe next time we see each other, I’ll be screaming my head off in the front row at one of your shows.”

He was so talented. She had no doubt that he’d make it big in the music business while she was gone. She’d be lucky if he even remembered her.

“I’m going to keep my eye out for you. Trust me.” He grinned and reached for her bags as the cab honked again.

Then, the moment of connection was gone. He kissed her once more before her taxi took off, but by that time, she’d shut down the urge to throw herself at him and beg him to wait for her....

* * *

CHICKEN THEN, chicken now?

She didn’t want to think so. But even if she dared to take that risk and tell him she was falling for him, what were their options for testing a relationship when he remained at sea most of the year?

Hauling herself out of bed while she mulled it over, she could already smell coffee brewing in the kitchen. She’d showered an hour ago when Danny had first awoken her with, he’d said, a burning desire to wash her hair. Turned out his burning desire had been about a whole lot more than that and her body still glowed with all the ways he’d satisfied her.

As she dressed, her cell phone chimed with a message.

Mom.

She checked the text, hoping there was no new ugliness to report regarding the emails from readers. But her note only said: I thought u would call me?

Tugging on a simple knit dress from her suitcase, Stephanie dialed her mother’s phone, remembering all the reasons she liked to have boundaries in her relationships. Was it any wonder she hadn’t gotten closer to Danny way back when? Then, she’d been desperate to make her mark on the world as an adult outside her parents’ sphere of influence. Now, she was desperate to free herself from her mother’s unspoken accusations. She knew her mother blamed Stephanie for making her ill, for not conforming to her expectations and being an all-around disappointment.

“Stephanie, thank God you’re all right.” Her mom answered with typical drama.

“Good morning, Mom. I only just woke up or I would have phoned sooner.” She slid into the warm and soothing tones of a late-night radio host, detached but comforting. “You’ll be happy to know I spoke to Danny about the threats and sent him a copy of the digital file. We’re going to work on increased security today.”

It was mostly true. She had shared the incident with Danny even though she hadn’t wanted to make a big deal out of the notes. And during her conversation with Danny the night before, she had promised to axe Josh’s PR firm today. She’d only kept them on to deal with the reader mail, but now that she’d started over and recovered in so many ways, she was ready to supervise the task herself. Maybe reading her own mail and reporting the weirdos herself would give her a greater sense of control and closure.

“Truly? What is he going to do to keep you safe? With the Murphy resources—”

“Mom.” She cut her off, her soothing voice long gone. “It’s not about what he’s going to do. And we’re not using ‘Murphy resources.’ He’s helping me figure out how to handle this and that’s it. I’m fine and that’s what I agreed to call about today, remember?”

Just once, she wished her mother would have some faith in her. Some trust in her judgment or some respect for her independence. But after waiting for years, she would have to concede it wasn’t going to happen.

Frustrated and disappointed, she finished up the call and headed into the kitchen, where her day was bound to improve. The coffee was made and the eggs were on the stove. A shirtless, sexy man stood at the counter prepping plates and juice glasses.

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