Dear Reader,

We are delighted to present you with three brand-new stories proving that, from the battlefield to the home front, love can conquer all!

Merline Lovelace will take you into the jungles of passion with “A Military Affair,” the story of a U.S. Air Force sergeant whose recovery mission lands her in the arms of an ambitious photojournalist. After he’s captured the story of a lifetime, will he take her heart, too?

The determined army lieutenant in Lindsay McKenna’s “Comrades in Arms” believes a woman, especially one untrained in combat, can only be a detriment to his team. Until he faces the battle of his life—with her at his side.

In Candace Irvin’s “An Unconditional Surrender,” two passionate ex-lovers fight a mission side by side and learn in the flames of war what it means to be consumed by love.

We hope you enjoy this special collection of heroes and heroines who give their all for their country—including their hearts.

The Editors
Silhouette Books

MERLINE LOVELACE

A career air force officer, Merline Lovelace spent twenty-three years in uniform. She’s served at bases all over the world, including tours in Taiwan, Vietnam and at the Pentagon on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. She has produced one action-packed sizzler after another and now has over forty-five published novels. Merline lives with her husband in Oklahoma City, where she is working on her next novel.

LINDSAY MCKENNA

A homeopathic educator, Lindsay McKenna teaches at the Desert Institute of Classical Homeopathy in Phoenix, Arizona. When she isn’t teaching alternative medicine, she is writing books about love. She feels love is the single greatest healer in the world and hopes that her books touch her readers on those levels. Coming from an Eastern Cherokee medicine family, Lindsay was taught ceremony and healing ways from the age of nine. She creates flower and gem essences in accordance with nature and remains closely in touch with her Native American roots and upbringing.

CANDACE IRVIN

As the daughter of a librarian and a sailor, it’s no wonder Candace Irvin’s two greatest loves are reading and the sea. After spending several exciting years as a naval officer sailing around the world, she finally decided it was time to put down roots and give her other love a chance. To her delight, she soon learned that writing romance was as much fun as reading it. Candace believes her luckiest moment was the day she married her own dashing hero, a former army combat engineer with dimples to die for. The two now reside in Arkansas, happily raising three future heroes and one adorable heroine—who won’t be allowed to date until she’s forty, at least.

MERLINE LOVELACE

LINDSAY MCKENNA

CANDACE IRVIN

IN LOVE AND WAR

Contents

COMRADES IN ARMS
Lindsay McKenna

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

COMRADES IN ARMS

Lindsay McKenna

To the men and women of our armed forces, our National Guard and those in reserve service—thank you for giving us the freedom that we enjoy.

Dear Reader,

It is an honor to be asked to create a story for the second military anthology in Silhouette history! Participating with Merline Lovelace and Candace Irvin makes this book special for me because we all served our country. Our services might have been different, but our hearts beat to the same patriotic tune. I’m very proud to be a part of this collection with my “sisters” from the military services.

Freedom should never be taken for granted. I have traveled the world over—Canada, Europe, Japan, Hong Kong, China, Australia, New Zealand and South America—and I now know what we have in the U.S.A. is something to cherish with our lives. I wish we could invite people of all countries to our own, to live here and experience firsthand the life that freedom bestows upon human beings.

“Comrades in Arms” is a story about hope. Set in Afghanistan, it shows how kindness and generosity can open up even the most tightly closed doors between very different people. I hope you enjoy it.

Sincerely,

Chapter 1

“Dave,” Morgan Trayhern said, a note of warning in his tone, “I know you don’t want a woman on your Special Forces team going into Afghanistan, but it can’t be helped. No one on your team speaks Pashto, or any of the other dialects of that country.” Running his fingers through his silver-flecked dark hair, Morgan eyed Captain Dave Johnson, who was looking very grim and unhappy as he stood before him in the small office at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, home of the Special Forces.

“Sir, with all due respect,” Dave said, opening his hand in a plea, “she—”

“Captain Tara McCain.”

“Er…yes, sir. Her… Well, this is unprecedented.”

“So was 9-11,” Morgan growled. He looked at his watch. In another five minutes, he had to leave and go help prep another Special Forces team that would soon be on its way to Afghanistan. It was September 29th, and the U.S. military had geared up to go after al-Qaeda who had been behind the attack on the World Trade Towers in New York City eighteen days ago.

“Yes, sir, I know….”

“Captain, you’ll be meeting McCain on the tarmac in exactly thirty minutes. You’ll be flying by Air Force C–141 Lockheed Starlifter to Afghanistan. Once you land, you’ll be taken by CH53 Super Sea Stallion helicopter to a remote mountain village known as Tarin Kowt. There’s a hotbed of Taliban there, along with U.S.-friendly Pashtun Afghan people. Your job is to get the leaders to tell you who is in the Taliban, who is in sympathy with Osama bin Laden, and where they are. You are then to call in air strikes or anything else you think appropriate, to either capture them or kill them. We want prisoners if at all possible. Without an interpreter, you are dead in the water, and we both know it. Now, Captain McCain has worked for Perseus, my secret black ops company, which is linked to the CIA. She’s a marathon runner. She has expertise in all weapons, up to and including the one you carry, the M–4 rifle. If you’re worried about her keeping up, don’t be. And if you’re going to give me a hard time because she’s a woman, you’re barking up the wrong tree. Typically, in all our missions with Perseus, we have a male and a female teamed up to work together. Each gender brings its own unique qualities to the table—strengths that complement one another for the best success of any mission.”

Dave frowned as he held Trayhern’s blazing blue eyes. When Morgan jabbed a finger in his direction, he almost felt it physically.

“I have years of studies showing that man-woman teams are a helluva lot more successful than same-gender ones. So get rid of your prejudice and get your team ready to rock. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

Nodding, Morgan grunted, “Good luck, Captain,” and he reached out and shook the army officer’s large, square hand. “Bring everyone home safe and alive. Your families will be waiting for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Dave muttered, releasing his hand. When Trayhern left, Dave scowled heavily and sat on the end of the olive-green metal desk, his arms folded against his chest. What was he going to do? He commanded the most elite of the U.S. Army’s teams—a Special Forces A team. There had never been a woman on any of his missions—ever. He rubbed his wrinkled forehead. Dave understood why Tara McCain was coming along; they needed someone who spoke at least one of the major languages of Afghanistan. Now he wished mightily that he had taken advantage of the language classes the army had offered him two years ago, to learn Arabic. But he’d declined. What a fool he’d been.

Heaving a sigh, Dave acknowledged that his own actions and reactions toward McCain were going to determine how his ten-man team would respond to her. The urgency to get covert military teams on the ground in Afghanistan was paramount. Tiger 01, his team, had been given a plum assignment, and no one wanted to settle the score with the perpetrators more than his men. Thousands of innocent civilians had died in the attack on the World Trade Towers. Dave closed his fist, wanting to extract his own personal revenge.

It was 1500. His men were waiting for him at the operations area, near the tarmac where a huge Air Force C–141 was waiting to take the team and their supplies on the long, long journey to Afghanistan.

Pulling his dark green beret out of the epaulet on his left shoulder, Dave placed it on his head. The door was ajar, and he could hear frantic calls from other teams as they prepared to go to war. Dave slid off the edge of the desk, straightened his desert fatigues, and strode outside. It was time to meet this woman who was like an unspoken curse to his team.

Tara McCain stood just inside the Ops building, near the glass doors to the tarmac. Outside, a Starlifter was being hurriedly prepared for a number of Special Forces teams. Nervously, she licked her lower lip. Dressed in desert fatigues, her pack and rifle nearby, she waited. Morgan Trayhern had called her two days ago at the Pentagon, where she worked as an intelligence officer for the army. He’d begged her to go on this mission. How could she say no?

Tara watched the hundreds of men milling around in the terminal, their own packs and rifles resting on the shiny waxed floor. The din they made was low but constant. More than a few eyeballed her and she could see the question in their eyes: what was a woman doing here? Except for some of the air control and meteorology desk people, she was the only woman present. And she was the only woman dressed in combat clothes, so that made her stand out from the office personnel. Because her brown hair was short, those that glanced at her had to look hard to see that she was female. She knew that, at five foot nine inches tall, and weighing in at 140 pounds, she could probably pass for a man. The flak vest she wore over her fatigues effectively hid her breasts and other curves, so that, upon first inspection, she looked more like an eighteen-year-old youth than a twenty-seven-year-old woman.

From out of the crush of soldiers, Tara saw a man roughly six foot two inches tall coming toward her. His features were dark and set. He had narrowed green eyes, a square face, a crooked nose and a thinned mouth. His gaze was trained on her.

Instantly, her heart beat once in response to the searing look he was giving her. Dressed in battle fatigues, he wore a pistol around his waist, along with a tan web belt that contained essentials like extra magazines of bullets. The green beret shouted that he was one of the proud A team officers. Seeing the black embroidered captain’s bars on his epaulets, Tara knew without a doubt this was her boss, Captain Dave Johnson, leader of Tiger 01. Her team. Her assignment.

As he slipped through the last barricade of men, Tara tried to brace herself. Johnson was clearly not a happy man. His mouth was pulled downward, his brow was furrowed and those thick black eyebrows were dipped in a V. Tara saw the warrior in this man as he walked purposefully toward her. He seemed more hunter than human. Still, she liked his eyes, even if they were narrowed. They were a beautiful forest-green, with huge black pupils, and she liked the alertness she saw in them. Widely spaced, they stood out against his darkly tanned, weathered features.

Out of habit, Tara’s gaze flicked for a moment to his left hand. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. But that didn’t really mean anything; many men took off their rings on missions like this.

Girding herself, as he rapidly closed the distance between them, Tara ordered herself to relax, or at least appear that way even if her stomach was knotted. She reminded herself that she, too, was a captain, the same rank as Johnson, and that he did not have seniority over her. They would share the command, and Tara was glad of that. Judging from the thunderous look he was giving her, she guessed that anyone of a lesser rank he’d eat alive.

“Captain McCain?” Dave tried to keep his voice low and smooth, though he felt anything but calm. The large-boned woman before him was tall and proud looking, her shoulders thrown back. Morgan had told him that she would not advertise herself unduly as a woman for the duration of the mission. Dave could almost believe she could pass for a man, except for the soft fullness of her lips. And that was his undoing…her mouth. Even though she wore absolutely no makeup, Tara McCain was a damn good-looking woman, in his estimation. Her dark brown hair was cut short, hidden mostly by the red beret she wore. Her eyes were blue and thickly lashed and he found himself being pulled by her wide, arresting eyes as she looked up at him.

“Yes, I’m McCain,” she answered, and offered her hand.

Dave halted, staring at her proffered hand. Her nails were blunt cut and he could see calluses on the palm. Still, she had a beautiful, graceful hand with long fingers. Mouth tightening, he reached out and gripped it. He was surprised at the returning strength. Okay, so she wasn’t one of those cushy Pentagon types that never worked out.

“Dave Johnson. I’m the leader of Tiger 01.”

“Nice to meet you.” Well, maybe, Tara thought, as she released his large, square hand. There was nothing pretty about Johnson, either in his face or his demeanor.

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Excuse me?”

Dave stared down at her. He noted the steely glitter in her eyes, saw her mouth pursing with displeasure. “Look, I don’t like this. I don’t like the fact that I have to take a woman into a dangerous combat situation with my team, but I’m saddled with you. So we’re going to make the best of it. My men are my family. We’re tight and we’ve bonded over the years. You’re a stranger walking into our unit, and I have to get you folded into my team’s dynamic so we operate as one fluid machine. Got that?”

“Yeah, I got it, Captain.”

Dave sighed and straightened. He dropped his hands on his hips and looked around, and then back at her. Anger was banked in her blue eyes. “Time’s short, McCain, and I need to say a few things.”

“Like you haven’t already? Are you throwing down a red flag, Captain? You want me to pick it up? Maybe you’re forgetting whose side I’m on. Well, you don’t speak Pashto. I do. And I’m fluent in two other dialects of Afghanistan, not to mention Farsi, the language of Iran. You won’t have a prayer of a chance without me acting as interpreter, so if I were you, I’d be treating me far better and with a lot more respect than you are presently. I stand between you and the enemy, Captain. If you can’t understand the language, the only way you’ll know who’s going to kill you is when they raise their weapons in your direction, and by that time it may be too late. So let’s start again, shall we? I’m not going to be bullied by you because you’re having a tizzy over a woman being on your all-male team.”

Her low, husky voice flowed straight through all the defenses Dave had erected. The blazing blue of her eyes reminded him of Wyoming, where he’d been raised. The sky over the Grand Tetons was exactly that shade.

“Okay,” he muttered defiantly, “so you aren’t the soft marshmallow I thought you were going to be.”

Tara almost smiled, but thought better of it. “Don’t count out marshmallows, either, Captain.”

Managing a sour smile, he took a step back, raised his head and looked around. “Okay,” he rasped, meeting her mutinous gaze, “I apologize, Captain. I came on strong. Me and my team are all uptight and eager to get the bastards who did this to our people.”

“Like I’m not?”

A sliver of a grin started. He swallowed it. Seeing the petulance and defiance in her oval face, those huge blue eyes slitted with silent rage, Dave realized she was a fighter, too. “Truce,” he murmured, and held up his hand. “Okay?”

“We’re on the same page, right? We’re all going after the Taliban. We’re a team. I’m going to dress like a man and keep my femininty subdued as best I can. I will be at your side at all times, Captain Johnson, when we interface with Afghan people. Right?”

“Right,” Dave said, some of the anger going out of him. He looked down at her military pack and the M–4 rifle leaning against the wall nearby. “You ready to go?”

“Of course I am. How about you?”

Plucky. Feisty. A woman warrior. Okay, he could buy that. “Yeah, we’re saddled up. All I’m waiting for is the Air Force loadmaster out there on the tarmac to give us the signal to board.”

Tara eyed him warily. She saw his anger receding, replaced by open curiosity—about her. She wasn’t too sure she wanted that kind of attention from him. Burned by another Special Forces officer in a relationship that had ended more than a year ago, she had sworn never to get involved with one again. Still, Dave Johnson was larger than life. He had that kind of quiet, demanding charisma that a good military leader possessed. It seemed to flow naturally from him, and whether she liked it or not, Tara was drawn to him. Unhappy with the stirring in her heart, she tamped down her feelings. This was not the time or place for such a thing. They had an objective: locate the Taliban and destroy them. Give Afghanistan back to the people, and release the Afghan women from the terrible bondage they endured under that regime.

“Once we get on board, you and I need to go over the mission briefing.”

“Fine,” she said.

“You ever been out in the field like this?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“It’s not a sin, Captain.”

“No, but it’s a detriment to my team.”

“I’ll try not to be a pain in the arse to you.”

“Oh, I have a feeling you’re probably a pain in the rear most of the time, Captain, but where we’re going, that may prove to be a positive.”

“Glad you think so, Captain, because I won’t stand for insubordination from you or your enlisted men. Are we clear on that?”

“Don’t worry,” Dave said, “my men will treat you like a sister.”

“I worry about your attitude, Captain.”

Shrugging, Dave said in a low tone, “How I feel about you personally is never going to show out in the field, Ms. McCain. I can guarantee that.”

“Good, then we should land at Tarin Kowt one big, happy family, right?”

Grinning, Dave replied, “Absolutely. But I don’t think it will be too long before the village leaders realize you’re a woman, even if you are wearing men’s clothes.”

Tara knew that when they landed in Afghanistan, everyone would shed their military uniforms for local garb, so that they blended in. If they stood out they were much more likely to be spotted and shot by the Taliban.

“We’ll have to take it as it comes,” Tara growled back. “I don’t want to be targeted, either.”

“How do you think the local leaders will react to you being a woman?”

“Depends upon the leader. There’s all kinds of attitudes and biases for and against women over there. Some who follow Islam treat women as equals, but they are few and far between.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Dave murmured.

“Let’s hope so,” she answered. “But I have my ways of getting through to people, Captain Johnson. If I need to, I’ll get the man’s attention and he will speak to me or else.”

Dave could believe that. He saw the resolute look in her eyes, heard the determination in her voice. Minute by minute, he was being convinced that maybe, just maybe, this woman could handle herself. But she’d never seen combat, and that was a completely different situation.

“Are you leaving loved ones behind?” he asked. Maybe he shouldn’t nose into her personal life, but it was eating at him. Did she have a significant other? Was she married? Dave knew little about her. He hadn’t had time to read her file due to the speed and urgency of this mission.

“My parents live in New Hampshire. I was able to call them yesterday and tell them I was going undercover on a top secret mission, and that I’d contact them upon my return.”

“I see… Any husband? Kids?”

“None of the above, Captain Johnson.” Tara saw an emotion flicker across his face. Relief? No, that couldn’t be. Why a look of relief? That didn’t make sense to her. “What about you?” she challenged.

“Me? I’m from Wyoming. My parents own a cattle ranch that butts up against the Grand Teton Mountains. Ever been in that state?” He saw her face thaw. Tara was very attractive when she wasn’t giving him that sour look. Of course, Dave realized, he was the one who’d put that expression on her face.

“Yes, mountain climbing is a hobby of mine.” She held up her hands, showing him the calluses on her palms.

“That explains why your nails are short and your hands strong,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Smart mouth. Plucky. He liked that. And he liked her a helluva lot more than he should. Scalded two years ago by a messy divorce, Dave had sworn off women in general. Rubbing his chest above his heart, he stated, “Well, where we’re going, there’s plenty of mountains.”

“I hope your men are trained for them?”

He swallowed another smile. Now she was challenging him. “We’ve done some work in mountains, Captain McCain. I think we’ll be able to keep up with you should we have to climb the face of one.”

It was her turn to smile, and her grin was wolfish, as if to say, Gotcha! “Okay,” she drawled, “we’ll see, when and if the time comes.”

“Is this show and tell time?” He held out his hands to her, palms up.

Tara couldn’t help but laugh. His palms were covered with thick calluses denoting how much time he’d spent roughing it out in nature. It was obvious he’d done his own share of mountain climbing.

Her laughter was like sweet, warm honey pouring into his heart. Surprised at the sensation, he caught himself smiling in return.

“Maybe you aren’t going to be such a pain in the rear,” he murmured.

“I was thinking the same thing about you, Captain Johnson.”

Chapter 2

Exhaustion pulled at Tara as she trotted through the hazy gold dusk of their first Afghanistan sunset. She was following on the heels of Dave Johnson, who was setting a helluva pace toward the village of Tarin Kowt. The CH-53 Sea Stallion had just disgorged them, and the billowing yellow dust churned up by the rotor blades as the aircraft took off practically choked them all. Dave had told Tara to tie her green bandana around her nose and mouth. Feeling a little stupid when she realized all the men on his team had done so already, she quickly covered her face and found relief from the suffocating dust.

Ahead, Tara could see several men coming out to meet them from a large village of square mudhut homes. They all wore turbans and were dressed in colorful, voluminous long-sleeved shirts, with bandoliers of ammunition across their chests, and dark-colored pants with leather boots. Each of them had a rifle at the ready. Dave slowed a little, raising his hand and gesturing for her to move up to the front with him. Surging ahead, Tara followed him easily, until the rest of the team was spread out in a semicircle. Directly behind her was the radioman, Private Doug Seabert, of Tallahassee, Florida. He carried the most advanced communications gear in the world on his broad back and thick shoulders.

Dave saw an older man wearing a cream-colored turban, his white beard neatly trimmed, standing in the middle of the awaiting party. He was probably the ruling war lord or chieftain of this village. Swallowing his fear, Dave wondered how these men would respond to Tara. In the deepening dusk, everyone’s face was hidden in shadows, so it would be difficult to identify her as a woman. She had a low, husky voice that reminded him of aged, mellow whiskey. Still, they weren’t trying to hide the fact that Tara was a woman, but they didn’t want to call attention to it.

Glancing to his right, he saw her move with fluid ease at his side, her M–4 in her hands, just in case. He’d been told that the warlord of the village, Chieftain Khalid Zaher, was anti-Taliban, and that he was also one of the most forward-thinking of the men who ran the country. Dave hoped so. Would he accept Tara as an interpreter? That would be their first huge test on this mission.

Pulling up, Dave raised his hand. His team automatically gathered in a circle around him as he halted a few feet from the group of Afghans. Seeing the suspicion in their eyes, he pinned his hopes on Chief Zaher, who was frowning directly at him.

“McCain?” Dave ordered. “Talk to them.” He wouldn’t use her first name; it would be a dead giveaway. In the military, the practice of using last names was common, anyway.

Swallowing, Tara stepped boldly forward. Dave noted that she was the same height as the thin, bearded leader, who stood with his arms crossed against his chest.

“Salaam,” she said, and then touched her brow, lips and heart, a respectful greeting for a person of the Islamic faith. Even though she wasn’t a Muslim herself, the greeting would go far in setting the right tone.

Tara feared the leader would not like the fact that she was a woman. However, her face was coated with yellow dust and the bandana across her lower face and nose effectively hid the rest of her features.

“Ah, someone who speaks Pashto,” Zaher said, and returned the age-old greeting.

Relief swept through Tara. Zaher seemed delighted, his chocolate-brown eyes dancing. “Chieftain Zaher, I’m the interpreter for this Special Forces A team. Our chief—” she motioned to Dave, who was standing at her shoulder, his M–4 pointed downward as a show of no hostility “—Captain Dave Johnson, has come to help you and your men make Tarin Kowt safe once more from the Taliban.”

A booming laugh erupted from Khalid. The rest of his men joined in.

“Indeed? Well, we have just routed them from our humble village once again. They know that I hate them and their ways. We have been fighting them almost daily for years, to keep them out of here. They believe that our women are not to be educated and are only broodmares to advance our race.” He turned his head and spat into the yellow dust at his feet.

From behind the half-dozen Afghans, Tara saw another soldier appear. Blinking, she realized it was a young woman, very tall and thin. She was dressed exactly like the men.

“Ah, here is my daughter.” Zahir held out his hand in her direction. “Come, Halima, come and let me introduce you to the men who are going to help us rout the Taliban once and for all….”

Dave blinked twice. He saw Tara give him a look of surprise. He swallowed his own reaction. The woman was dressed exactly like the chieftain’s soldiers. She had bandoliers of ammunition crisscrossing her chest and the voluminous clothing she wore hid the fact that she was a woman. The only giveaway was her long, black hair, which flowed from beneath the white turban on her head.

“Halima Zaher. Freedom fighter for the true Afghanistan,” Khalid proudly announced. “My eldest daughter fights at my side and risks her life so that the women of our village remain free to be educated, and not hidden in their houses as if in prison. Halima, meet McCain and Captain Johnson.”

Halima bowed respectfully, grasping the old rifle in her long, thin fingers. “We welcome you to our land,” she murmured.

Tara grinned, but no one could see it beneath her bandana. If the chieftain allowed his daughter to fight, he wasn’t going to have a problem with her being a woman, either. Pulling off the bandana, she held Khalid’s limpid gaze. “Just as your daughter fights for the true Afghanistan, the U.S. Army also allows me, Captain Tara McCain, to come and help your efforts, as well.”

Chuckling, Khalid looked down at his daughter, who stood proudly at his side. “Ah, this is good! I have told Halima that the USA military has women in it. She did not believe me! Now she must.”

Tara rapidly translated all that had been said. Relief was clearly etched in Dave’s eyes.

“Ask the chieftain if we may come into his village,” he told her. “We’ll need accommodations. Ask him if my men can stay in his people’s homes. Tell him we want to get out of our U.S. military gear and we’ll need Afghan clothing. We’ll pay for everything.”

Tara translated all that to Zaher, who nodded.

“Yes, yes. Come, it is nearing darkness. You must be tired and hungry. We have little, but what we have, we share with you.” He turned and gave rapid orders to his soldiers, who in turn went to Dave’s men and gestured for them to follow.

Tara said, “Khalid will have each of his men take one of our team to a different house, to be fed, given space to sleep, and provided with Afghan clothing.”

“Great. Where are we going?”

Tara turned back to the chieftain. “My chief would like to speak with you at length tonight. Will that be possible? There is much to discuss, honored Zaher.”

“Of course,” Khalid said. “Come, you two will share our humble house and food.” He turned to Halima. “I will allow you, my daughter, to find suitable men’s clothing for Captain McCain.”

“Yes, my father, I would be more than honored to do so.”

Dave felt exhaustion pulling at him. Khalid’s home was a bit larger than most, but then, he was a warlord, and very rich by most Afghan standards. There was one extra room available and it housed his weapons. They had dined on dates, goat’s milk cheese, dried fruit and fragrantly spiced rice with lamb. Tara had remained at Dave’s side at all times. The chieftain had his entire family, children included, sit around them in a semicircle in the carpeted living room, resting on large, colorful silk pillows with gold tassels. Huge silver platters of food had been set on the burgundy Oriental carpet. The servants who attended were quick, silent and respectful as one course after another was presented. Tara had whispered to Dave that if he didn’t eat well, Khalid would be offended.

Rubbing his stomach because he’d overeaten, Dave finally saw the chieftain raise his hand. Everyone in Khalid’s family, including his wife, Fazila, left them. Silence fell in the room after they had left. Khalid lit a pipe and smoked it for several minutes.

“Chief Johnson does not smoke?” he inquired, when Dave declined the pipe Khalid offered him.

Tara shook her head. “No, he doesn’t, my lord.”

“Pity. A good smoke after a good meal is like rain to the parched land.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“And was your leader satisfied with my humble meal?”

Tara grimaced inwardly. She turned to Dave and said, “Burp.”

“What?” Dave replied with a frown.

“I said burp. You know, belch?”

He gave her a strange look. “Why?”

“Because in their culture, it’s considered a sign that you liked the meal if you belch. Now, fake it if you have to, but do it. He’s asking if you enjoyed his hospitality.”

Dave kept his face carefully neutral. He placed his hand over his stomach and forced out a big belch. Instantly, Khalid smiled, making his dark, lined face look much younger than before.

“Excellent, excellent,” the chieftain murmured. He put the pipe down on a silver tray and then drew himself up.

Tara forced a belch as well. Khalid nodded deferentially to her, a pleased look on his face.

“May we talk of why we’re here?” she asked the chieftain.

“Yes, talk is welcome now, Captain McCain.”

Tara launched into the game plan Dave had gone over with her on the C-141 as they flew long, endless hours from the U.S. to Afghanistan. She roughly sketched out what the team was here to do: locate Taliban and either capture them, which was their preference, or kill them. Most of all, the team wanted to learn where the regional leaders were hiding. She explained that Dave would need the close support, guidance and help of the chief and his men to accomplish all these things.

Dave enjoyed the low, mellow sounds of Pashto spilling effortlessly from Tara’s lips. In the flickering light of the oil lamp, he could see she was tired. From where he sat, he could see dark circles beginning to appear beneath her glorious blue eyes. Every minute, his respect for her was mounting. She had taken off her beret before dinner, and her smooth cap of dark brown hair outlined her skull. Halima had come over earlier, before the meal, to touch and inspect Tara’s short hair. The young woman had looked sad, and Tara had smiled and said something to her in Pashto. Then Halima had taken off her turban and allowed her long, black hair, to flow over her shoulders, to below her small breasts.

Shifting his attention back to Khalid now, Dave watched the older man’s wrinkled, thin face as he devoted his full attention to what Tara was saying. Dave thought he saw delight, anger and then a look that could only be interpreted as desire for revenge in the man’s narrowed, dark eyes as she finished.

“You tell Captain Johnson that we will work together, as one force, to hunt down the leaders of the Taliban. They are in the neighboring village of Deh Rawod, which is twenty miles from here.”

Tara turned to Dave, whose gaze was fixed on her. Skin prickling pleasantly beneath his hooded inspection, she managed a slight smile. “Good news,” she told him, and repeated the chief’s words in English.

“Ask him if we can turn in and sleep, okay? Tell him we’ll start doing serious planning tomorrow morning.”

“Of course…”

Tara felt uncomfortable. The room she was in was large, but most of it served as a weapons cache. There was a strip left, seven feet by four feet, for them to sleep within. They lay side by side on pallets, surrounded by many boxes of ammunition, grenades and other paraphernalia of war. This was the only room available. The darkness was almost complete. The window was open, allowing sporadic gusts of fresh air into the space. The huge wooden door, which hung on leather straps, was closed.

Sighing, Tara turned onto her back, resting her hands beneath her head. Dave was barely two feet from her elbow. She was still in her uniform, but had taken off her boots, as had he.

“Can’t you sleep?” she asked, when she heard him shift restlessly.

He smiled a little and rolled over on his side, facing her. “No. Too excited. Hyperalert. I don’t trust the Taliban, who are probably no more than twenty miles away, not to attack us here tonight.”

Tara nodded. Dave’s closeness made her feel safer than she probably should. Still, his strong presence, his quiet charisma, which had immediately won Khalid’s respect, was a comfort. “Do you think they will?”

“I don’t know.” Dave caught himself wanting to reach out and brush a strand of hair off her forehead. There was just enough moonlight spilling through the window for him to see her features. Outside, he could hear the bleat of goats and sheep in nearby corrals.

“I’m so tired I could die,” Tara whispered, closing her eyes. “I feel stretched like a wire.”

“Jet lag combined with the stress of living under the threat of combat,” he murmured.

“You feel the same?” Tara opened her eyes and looked over at him. It was a mistake. Dave’s eyes were hooded, and if she didn’t know better, she’d say that was tenderness burning in them. Swallowing hard, she felt her heart take off at a gallop. Quickly lowering her gaze, she tried to ignore his nearness, his quiet, powerful masculinity.

“Maybe if we talk about home, it will help bring us down,” Dave offered. He saw desire in Tara’s eyes when their gazes locked for a moment. Desire? That was unexpected. Had she seen his wistful feelings toward her in his eyes? Hoping not, Dave scowled. He shouldn’t be drawn to her at all. Not now, under these conditions.

“Does that do the trick?” she asked, chuckling softly.

“Yeah, usually does. I’ll go first….”

Tara closed her eyes and pulled her hands from behind her head, settling them across her stomach. “Okay…you first,” she murmured. Tiredness lapped at her. How desperately she wanted to sleep! And how she had to fight the urge to simply turn toward Dave, inch forward and snuggle in his arms.

“I was born in Barton’s Junction, Wyoming. My family owns a cattle ranch at the edge of the Tetons, the most mountainous part of the state. I have two younger brothers and a sister. They all work on the ranch, helping out my parents.”

Tara opened her eyes and, against her better judgment, looked over at him. She was surprised at how the tension had drained out of Dave’s face as he lay there on his side, one arm propping him up. “You don’t like being a cattle rancher?” she asked.

He shrugged and quirked his mouth. Picking at a thread on the Oriental rug beneath the pallets they rested on, he murmured, “My dad was in Army Special Forces during the Vietnam War. I was raised on the stories he told us, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps. I like the adventure.”

“And you’re the eldest son, right?” She smiled a little when his mouth softened. Tara found Dave’s mouth absolutely mesmerizing. He had a full lower lip, the upper one slightly thinner. She could tell instantly from the way he held his mouth and the look in his eyes what he was feeling. Maybe he thought she couldn’t interpret nonverbal signs, but that was her specialty, and Tara was finding it very easy to read him.

“Yeah, guess I fell into that trap, didn’t I?” He chuckled.

“You’re making a career out of the army? Put in your twenty and then go home and become a rancher?”

“Looks like it,” he murmured, drowning in her wide eyes. Tara was incredibly easy to talk to. “I was only going to do six years, to fulfill my officer’s commission, but….” He frowned.

“Uh-oh, real life intruded, right?”

Cocking his head, he studied her in the gathering silence. “What is it about you? I find myself wanting to spill my guts to you.”

It was her turn to laugh softly. Opening her hands, Tara said in a quiet tone, “I’m mother confessor over in the intelligence section. Everybody comes to me and tells me their sad stories.”

“You don’t look like a mother confessor.”

“No?” Tara found herself melting beneath his teasing grin. The way his mouth quirked caught her off guard once more. Fleetingly, she wondered how well he kissed. Very well, she bet. Suddenly frightened of the way her thoughts were meandering, she tried to remain immune to him.

“You’re too young and pretty.” He held up his hand. “I know, I know, that’s not a politically correct thing to say to a fellow army officer….”

“But it’s a nice compliment. Thank you.” Tara felt heat scalding her neck and flowing up into her face. Thank goodness the semidarkness would hide her blush from him!

Dave realized he was letting his stupid heart lead his head. Hadn’t he learned his lesson about women yet? But there was something guileless and trusting about Tara McCain. When he’d seen her soothing, low voice work its magic on Khalid, he’d felt an instant respect for her. The old chieftain was smitten with her from the looks of it, but that wasn’t a bad thing, in Dave’s opinion. It was better than Khalid having issues with her being a woman in the army.

Clearing her throat nervously, Tara tried to move on to a less personal topic. “You said you were going to spend six years in the army and then get out and go home. What made you change your mind?”

“Hmm? Oh, that. Well…” He scowled. “I got married.”

Tara grinned. “That’s supposed to be a happy time. From the look on your face, it was a disaster.”

“It wasn’t at first,” he murmured. Why was he bleeding out his sob story to Tara? Dave couldn’t help himself. Her liquid eyes were so wide and compassionate that he felt himself falling helplessly beneath her magic. “Wanda, my ex-wife, was a wild child. I guess what drew me to her initially was her free spirit. Sort of like Halima. She reminds me of that same type of rebellious personality.”

“That’s not all bad. Being independent.”

Dave nodded. “Attraction of opposites, I guess,” he said, staring blankly down at the dark carpet between them. He traced the flowery design with his index finger, lost in the pain of his past. “She was a lot younger than me. Actually, she was the daughter of an army major.”

“What attracted you to her?” Tara wondered what kind of women Dave liked. Obviously, the wild child variety, which wasn’t what she was at all. Maybe she should feel relieved. Instead, she felt disheartened. Why?

“Loved to party. Wasn’t afraid to be herself. She was full of life.”

“I imagine she gave her parents a run for their money. Most army brats aren’t rebellious. They toe the line and are conservative by nature.”

“You got that right,” Dave chuckled. “I think her father was relieved she was marrying me. It got her out of their household and into mine.”

Tara saw the pain in his eyes as she met his fleeting gaze. He immediately dropped his eyes, slowly tracing the design in the carpet over and over again. “And life was good?” she prodded.

“For a while, yeah. We were married for three years and then it fell apart. The divorce was ugly. I never want to go through that again.”

“I’m sorry. Any children?”

“No, thank goodness, there weren’t.”

Tiredness was stealing over Tara. She closed her eyes. “And how long ago was that?”

“Two years ago.” Dave looked over at her. Tara’s eyes were closed, her thick lashes resting against the planes of her cheeks. Fighting an urge to reach out and graze her skin with his fingers, he sighed instead and allowed the silence to lengthen between them. Five minutes later, he knew by the way her breasts rose and fell gently beneath the uniform that Tara had fallen asleep.

Sitting up, Dave drew the thin blanket up across her shoulders. He didn’t want her to get chilled. September in this country brought hot days and cool nights. As he tucked her in, Dave had the wild, hungry urge to kiss those soft, parted lips of hers. No way. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right.

Easing back onto his pallet, he frowned and pulled the blanket up to his waist. Facing the door, his M–4 rifle near his hand, he knew he had to separate these startling new feelings he had toward Tara from the mission that lay ahead of them. Tomorrow, everyone’s lives would be on the line.

As he closed his eyes, Dave tried not to think of Tara as a target. The last thing he wanted was for her to be wounded or killed. His heart simply couldn’t handle that possibility.

Chapter 3

“I think you’ve made believers out of the people of Tarin Kowt,” Tara said to Dave as they sat in the all-terrain vehicle on a hillside above the village. It was nearly dusk. The October sky above them was pink and lavender. The sun had already set. Some thin, high cirrus clouds spread across the sky like a horse’s tail.

Dave stirred in the driver’s seat. “A week makes a difference, doesn’t it?”

“Getting all the helicopter supplies, including food packets, in for Chief Khalid and his people made them believe your team is serious and here to stay.”

“It’s true. It has.” Because he had not had many opportunities to be alone with Tara during daylight hours, Dave had driven up the dusty road from the village to a barren hill overlooking the small valley where Tarin Kowt nestled. He savored his time alone with Tara even though he knew he shouldn’t. It was true they slept close to one another in the munitions room of Khalid’s small home, and that was a special hell for Dave. He wasn’t getting the sleep he needed because he wanted her in his arms.

“You’ve been part of the magic of this week,” he murmured, cocking his head in her direction. Even in male Afghan clothes, Tara looked feminine to him. The thick frame of her dark lashes emphasized the beauty of her blue eyes. When her lips lifted and she grinned back at him, his heart skittered with need. For her.

“Let’s give Halima credit, too. She’s a real warrior, that one. And she can ride a horse like no one’s business.”

Laughing softly, Dave gazed out over the valley. They had the Taliban on the run, but it was never safe. Sitting too long on the hill could make them a target, drawing mortar or sniper fire. “Yeah, she was practically born on one.” He started the engine and began the slow descent down the rocky, dusty yellow trail that served as a road. All around them the shadows of night began to creep over the barren, mountainous desert, creating perfect hiding places for Taliban soldiers.

“My butt’s still sore from riding all day yesterday,” Tara griped good-naturedly. “You sat on that horse like you were born to it. But then, you were raised on a Wyoming cattle ranch.”

Yesterday, they’d ridden into the surrounding mountains with Khalid and his men in search of a Taliban leader. Halima had headed the column, for she knew some of their hideouts from sneaking up on them and locating them on a hand-drawn map she’d created.

Dave roused himself and stayed on the track. Getting off it might cause them to drive over a land mine. The mines left by the Russians a decade earlier were real killers of Afghan people. Khalid had given Dave and the team a map that indicated where known minefields were located.

“With a continual supply of gas and food,” he told her as they bumped down the hill, “we’ll be able to investigate that fortress that Halima says has tunnels.”

“When are we going?” Tara allowed herself a moment to study Dave’s rugged profile. Since coming to Tarin Kowt, he’d been busy eighteen hours a day, barely grabbing enough sleep in their tiny makeshift quarters to keep going. How she looked forward to those few hours with him. Oh, she would never admit it to him…. Tara found herself fighting hourly not to like Dave more than she should. She reminded herself that he was based in Kentucky, and she in Washington, D.C. A long-distance relationship just wouldn’t work.

“Day after tomorrow, when we get new supplies.”

“Is your boss in Kandahar happy with your progress?” Tara knew that Navy Seabees were coming in to make the small airport at Tarin Kowt accessible to larger aircraft. Right now, it was a yellow dirt strip just outside the village, and they were resupplied by helicopters.

“Yeah, real happy.” Dave rubbed his chin, which was rough from a thick growth of beard. None of his men had shaved since coming to the country. They wanted to melt into the Afghan population as much as possible, to become chameleons so the Taliban couldn’t single them out. That provided a modicum of safety—except in Tara’s case; she couldn’t grow a beard. During the day, though, she usually wrapped a white swath from her turban across her nose and lower face so that all that showed were her luminous blue eyes. And from a distance, no Taliban soldier could know she was American, a soldier or a woman. Still, Dave lived in terror of her being hurt. He wasn’t sure how he would handle it if Tara did get wounded—or worse, killed in the line of duty. His heart just didn’t want to go there.

“Hey, tonight, when we get to our room, I have a special surprise for you,” he said, grinning over at her before returning his focus to the road. They eased down the last slope and he picked up speed, heading toward the village, where a few oil lamps shone in the darkness.

Her heart speeding up momentarily, Tara smiled. “Oh?”

“Yeah, something special I ordered for you the last time I talked to the supply sergeant back in Kandahar.” Absorbing her sparkling blue gaze, he felt his heart swell with joy. He was discovering he wanted to do little things for Tara. She never complained about the long hours, the choking dust, the lack of facilities or anything else. Truly, she made him proud she was an army officer. His men, too, had come to respect her, and were absorbing her into the “family” as a result. To them, she was like a little sister that needed taking care of, and she treated them all like big brothers. A lot of his fear that she wouldn’t assimilate had been nothing but prejudice on his part, Dave realized.

Now, he was glad Tara was with them. It perked his men up. They enjoyed her company, because Tara could tease just as mercilessly as they could. Yes, with her special presence, Dave had seen Tiger 01 lighten up, laugh a lot more and relax, even though they were in combat conditions.

“I like surprises,” Tara confided.

“Good,” he said with another smile.

Tara had taken a cooling shower outside the house in a device that Sergeant Lovell had specially made for her and the team. The shower was a simple thing, but being able to wash the sweat and that fine, irritating dust off her body at the end of the day was a delicious feeling. It was the highlight of her evening. Aware of the degree of modesty required of a woman in Afghanistan, Tara had borrowed several of Halima’s cotton shifts and they hung below her knees.

Toweling her freshly washed hair, she entered the house quietly and padded to the munitions room. The door was open. Dave had showered earlier. A sputtering oil lamp on a dusty table provided the only light in the tiny area. Shutting the door quietly, she turned and stepped around Dave, who was sitting cross-legged in his T-shirt and a clean pair of fatigues. His boots were off, his long feet bare.

“You look beautiful,” he observed as Tara sat down on her pallet only feet away from him. Her hair was spiky from being rubbed dry with the green towel.

“Thanks…I don’t know about ‘beautiful,’ but I sure feel wonderful getting cleaned up.” Running her fingers through her hair, she found her small comb and quickly tamed the strands into place. Looking up, she smiled at Dave. “Okay, do I get my prezzie?”

“Prezzie?” He drowned in her luminous eyes, darkened by the night shadows. Only the dancing yellow light of the oil lamp allowed him to see her features.

“Yeah, that’s what my family calls them—prezzies. Short for presents or gifts.” She held out her hand. “Well?”

Laughing softly, Dave pulled out a small sack and handed it to her. “I’m afraid it isn’t wrapped….” he said apologetically.

“Hey, we’re at war,” she murmured, taking the sack and placing it in her lap. Quickly opening it up, she gasped. “Oh! Hand lotion!”

Something warm and melting moved through Dave. The joy in her soft cry sifted through him like a sigh of pleasure. “It’s not much…. I asked the supply sergeant if he could wrangle some. I saw your skin peeling and I knew you needed some protection….”

Without thinking, Tara rose up on her knees, threw her arms around Dave’s broad, capable shoulders and kissed him on the mouth. It was a swift peck, meant to thank him from the bottom of her heart for his sensitivity and thoughtfulness. She’d never complained about her itchy skin, but he’d seen her suffering, noted it and had done something wonderful for her.

“Thank you, Dave,” she whispered, her arms still around his shoulders, her knees touching his. “You are so thoughtful!”

Tara’s unanticipated kiss unhinged him. When she remained so close, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears of gratefulness, he lost control. The driving need to touch her, to kiss her, overwhelmed him.

“I need you,” he rasped, and, lifting his arms, he brought her fully against him. If Tara had hesitated, tensed or shown any interest in being released, Dave would have done so instantly. But she didn’t. Instead, as he slid his arm around her waist and brought her into his embrace, her body folded and melted gracefully against his. When he looked down into her uplifted face, saw her eyes huge with desire, he knew she wanted him to kiss her. He was old enough, experienced enough, to recognize the look of desire on a woman’s face.

Leaning down, he slid his arm around her lower back and captured her hips so that he could feel the warm softness of her breasts and abdomen against his body. As he brushed her lips the first time, he heard and felt her sigh. Her mouth was soft, beguiling, and as he moved his lips across hers, he felt her smile. When her arms tightened and she pressed herself more fully against him, Dave shuddered with heightening desire. This time he claimed her mouth, now wet and slick, with a deep, searching kiss. She tasted minty, and he realized she’d just brushed her teeth. The clean smell of Tara, that womanly fragrance, entered his flaring nostrils and he drank it in like the starving man he was.

And when she returned his hot, hungry kiss, her mouth equally eager for contact, and her fingers moving slowly across his skull, tangling in his short hair, another, deeper shudder rolled through him. He slid his lips across hers in a commanding but cajoling manner. Breathing raggedly, Dave felt her breasts rising and falling quickly against his chest. How he wished they were naked! His mind was turning to mush. His heart was banging like a sledgehammer in his chest. He wanted Tara. All of her. Now.

Running his hand upward, he moved his fingers across her damp hair, down her slender neck and then cupped her jaw, imprisoning her so he could tangle his tongue sinuously with hers. When he heard her moan as she arched against him, her breasts taut, the nipples hard and insistent against his chest, Dave groaned. Tara was just as needy as he. It was mutual.

He eased his mouth from hers and placed kiss after kiss on her broad brow, her closed eyelids, the soft skin of her cheek and down the slender column of her neck. The shift she wore covered most of her body, so Dave pressed a kiss on her partly exposed collarbone and allowed his fingers to move in a caressing motion across the fullness of her breast.

Tara moaned again.

Leaning down, he placed his lips against the fabric where the peak of her breast thrust upward. As he suckled her, she cried out softly in pleasure and her arms tightened around his neck. His heart arced in joy over giving her such happiness.

And then reality struck him. He couldn’t make love to her here. At least, not now. Easing his lips from her hardened nipple, he found her mouth and kissed her deeply once more. Tara was vulnerable, the kind of partner he’d always wanted and never found. She was bold, hungry and equal to him in every way. Opening his eyes, he cradled her in his arms and reluctantly eased her away from him enough so that he could look into her eyes. Her fine nostrils were flared and her hands stroked his neck restlessly. Dave absorbed her touch as she slid her fingers through his short, thick hair, to his shoulders and back again in gentle, caressing motions.

Tara gazed up into Dave’s dark, narrowed eyes, which burned like fire. Heart hammering, her lips tingling wildly from his passionate kiss, she found she couldn’t speak. It was impossible. She could only feel. And then feel some more. When he lifted one hand to graze her hair, cheek and chin, she saw a sad smile shadow his strong, male mouth.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking,” she said huskily.

“Probably. Wrong time. Wrong place.”

“I know….”

He studied her ruthlessly, memorizing each nuance of her shadowed face. “But I’m not sorry it happened, babe. Not in a million years, if you want the truth.”

Laughing breathlessly, Tara slid her fingers up the bristly stubble on his cheek. “Oh, I’m not sorry, either. Just surprised at myself. Normally, I’m not this spontaneous.”

His lips curved in a feral smile. “Remind me to bring you another present tomorrow night.”

Tara knew they must keep their voices down, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, squelching the sound of her laughter. Dave was grinning like an alpha wolf—at her. As if she was his mate. It made her feel extremely feminine and wanted. Desired.

Brushing strands of drying hair from her brow, he sighed. “This is mutual, right?”

“Yes…”

“I never expected something like this to happen, Tara.”

“Neither did I. I wasn’t looking for a man, to be honest.”

“And I wasn’t looking for a woman. Not after I got burned so badly by that divorce….”

Sighing, Tara snuggled into his arms and rested her head against his shoulder. “We can’t have a full-blown affair under Khalid’s roof. Islamic law is strict about that, and I don’t think it would go over well under the circumstances. We have to sleep together because there isn’t anywhere else for us, and he knows that. But to make love…”

“Yeah,” Dave said grimly, “I agree with you. I don’t like it, but I know you’re right. We need his loyalty, and his trust. We can’t go around breaking religious laws that would force him to view us differently.”

Looking up into his dark, rugged face, Tara whispered, “I like being kissed by you, Dave. It was wonderful. Better than anyone else—ever.”

Preening a little, he said, “Yeah? Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not just saying it because of the hand lotion for your skin?”

“Oh! Get out of here!” She playfully hit his shoulder. “I’m not that easy, Johnson. Never was. Never will be.”

Sliding his hand over her warm, firm arm, he said, “So, this attraction to me has been brewin’ for a while?”

“Yes.”

“Ever since I laid eyes on you at Ops, I’ve wanted you.” He saw her lips part momentarily. And then that luscious mouth moved into a teasing smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess my attraction to you didn’t hit me over the head at Ops,” Tara admitted. She rested her hand against his chest. Beneath her palm, she could feel the heavy thud of his heart. “Over the past week, I’ve gotten to see you differently. The way you treat your men, the people here in the village. You’re surprising.”

“Not the Neanderthal you thought?” He chuckled, absorbing the feel of her fleeting touch as she ran her hand down his arm. He needed to touch Tara, to have this incredible contact with her. It fed his soul. It fed his heart.

Giggling, one hand over her mouth, she nodded.

Leaning down, Dave brushed her brow with a slow, warm kiss. He felt Tara sigh, felt her arm move around his neck to draw him close once more. Groaning softly, he whispered near her ear, “I’m starving for you, babe. You make me feel again in every way. I never thought another woman could do that. Never. But you have….” And he pressed several small kisses across her damp hair, her temple, cheek and, finally, her waiting mouth.

Cherishing Tara was so easy. Dave didn’t want to stop kissing her, but he knew he had to. Sleep was a precious commodity, and neither of them ever got enough under the circumstances.

Easing away, he saw the tenderness burning in Tara’s eye. There was no question that what he saw glistening there was love—for him. That startled him as nothing else could. They hadn’t known each other that long. Was it possible to fall in love so quickly? Dave didn’t know. And he was scared—for them. And for the uncertainty of life under combat conditions.

“Whatever happens,” Tara whispered as she touched his bristly cheek one last time, “no one can know of us. Or how we feel. Not even your men.”

Letting her slip out of his arms, Dave eased her onto her pallet, next to his. “Agreed.”

“Whatever we have, it will take the test of time, and I’m okay with that,” Tara said, studying him in the silence. “Are you?”

“Yes. We need the time, babe. Especially me. I’ve been burned by a relationship before. I just never expected you to crash into my life and make me look at things differently.”

“I wasn’t in need of a man,” she told him wryly. Tara took the bottle of hand lotion and opened it up. She knelt there facing him as she smoothed some onto her peeling face.

Dave watched her smile as the lotion began to lubricate her sunburned features. “Here, give me the bottle. I want to put it on your arms….”

Hesitating fractionally, Tara smiled. Giving him the bottle, she sat with her legs crossed beneath the shift. Lifting her right arm, she closed her eyes as his rough fingers slid provocatively from her shoulder downward. The lotion smelled of roses, and she reveled in the simple act he was performing. She absorbed the gentle, sliding touch of his strong fingers across first her right arm, and then her left. When he was finished, she opened her eyes.

“That was wonderful….”

“Maybe we can do small things like this for one another….” He handed the lotion back to her. Seeing Tara’s eyes narrow with desire, he smiled slightly. “That is, if we can control our basic, primal needs.”

Grinning, Tara set the lotion aside and lay down. Drawing the thin cotton blanket up to her waist, she faced Dave. “I’m the guilty party. I attacked you first.”

Sliding down on his pallet, a mirthless smile on his mouth, he said, “I kind of like being hunted…it’s a new experience for me. And I really like your feistiness, you know that?”

“Comes with being a female.”

Dave reached over and touched the strands of her drying hair against her cheek. “A fighter by nature.”

“Better believe it.” She thrilled to his grazing touch and saw his eyes burn with desire—for her.

“And I was dead wrong about my belief that you might not be able to handle combat situations with us.”

“My heart be still—an apology. Wow…”

“You really know how to pour salt in this poor guy’s wounds.”

“Yeah, my heart bleeds for you, Johnson. I remember the nasty guy who stormed up to me at Ops growling that I wasn’t fit for combat duty.”

Raising his brows, he sighed. “I guess I do have this coming…”

“In spades, so take your medicine like a good little boy, be gracious in defeat and I promise to stop pouring salt in your wounds, okay?”

Oh, the urge to raise up on his elbow and kiss that smart, feisty, smiling mouth of hers was nearly his undoing. “I’m really beginning to like women warriors.”

Pleased by his lack of arrogance in admitting he was wrong, Tara whispered, “Go to sleep, Dave. It’s taking everything I have not to scoot into your arms and do some really wild woman things to you….”

With a groan, Dave flopped on his back and put his arm across his eyes. “Lady, you sure as hell know how to tease and tempt me….”

With a soft snort, Tara muttered, “And you don’t think I don’t feel the same way? I’ll see you in my dreams, okay?”

Lifting his arm, he peeked at her grinning features. “Yeah, it’s the only safe place for us to work out our torrid fantasies with one another, isn’t it?”

Squelching laughter, Tara couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “Good night, Captain.”

“Yeah…right…good night, Captain…”

Chapter 4

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Tara murmured to Dave as they sat in a deep crater from a bomb dropped by a B-52 bomber a week ago. Dressed in her Afghan soldier outfit, a turban on her head and her M–4 rifle nearby, she crouched with him on the chewed-up dirt at the bottom of the depression where it was safe. Right now, the rest of their team was out on a mission to the hills surrounding Deh Rawod, a hotbed of Taliban soldiers.

Dave grinned and spooned up a bite of food from his packaged MRE—meals ready to eat. “Not exactly the turkey day I would like to have had.”

Tara nodded. “Hey, this is better than nothing, under the circumstances. At least that supply sergeant was thoughtful enough to give us turkey MREs.”

Dave smiled and continued to eat. The day was cool, and the walls of the crater around them provided a modicum of protection from both the wind and possible snipers. “If you were home right now, what would you have done for Thanksgiving?” he asked, studying Tara’s sunburned features and peeling nose. He hadn’t been able to get her another bottle of lotion and that bothered him. It was a small thing, but important to him. Her face had turned several shades darker from being exposed to the merciless Afghan sun in this mountainous desert. He himself looked more like an Afghan every day, with his dark beard and skin turning tobacco-brown from the constant outdoor activities.

Tara sighed and leaned back on the soft dirt, the flak jacket chafing her skin as it always did beneath the vertical striped white-and-brown shirt she wore. “I’d probably go home for the holiday. I have a lot of leave saved up. I’d help my mom make the turkey. I make a killer stuffing, Johnson. You’d pig out on it.”

“I’ll bet you do,” he murmured, watching her half-closed eyes, the MRE resting on her stomach as she lay back in the crater. Their nights together in the small munitions room hadn’t lasted much longer. Halima had taken it upon herself to invite Tara to her room to sleep, a far more comfortable situation, and more in keeping with Muslim tradition. Tara had had to accept, so Dave was left without her warmth and her sense of humor. Maybe it was just as well, he supposed, because he found himself itching to touch her, to kiss her whenever the opportunity presented—which wasn’t often. First and foremost, he had a team to run and a mission to complete. Whatever he and Tara shared came last, and he knew she was in accord with that. Still, he could see desire and sadness in her eyes sometimes, and that made him yearn for her even more.

Today they had an hour to themselves—a rarity. Dave was hungry to simply be with Tara. He felt far more than lust for her, he’d come to realize over the past three months. Something much deeper was taking root between them. Tara was touching a chord of need in him that had never been struck before she’d walked unexpectedly into his life.

“Ugh, I’m stuffed,” she whispered, and sat up, resealing the MRE pouch. She wasn’t about to litter the Afghanistan desert with her leftover food wrappings. Turning, she got up on her knees, opened her fifty-pound pack and put the empty container away.

“I could eat another one,” Dave said. He watched as she turned and plopped down again, her legs crossed and her elbows resting on her knees. His gaze moved to her mouth.

“You’re double my size,” she laughed softly, “so I’m not surprised.”

“Come here, you got some leftover cranberry sauce on the corner of your mouth.”

Easing toward him, Tara gave him a mischievous smile. Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she leaned closer, her knees pressed against his leg. “Do I? Or is this just a ruse, Johnson?” Thrilled as he gave her that hooded, dark look filled with desire, Tara drowned in his forest-green gaze. Oh, how she looked forward to these rare, beautiful moments with him! Sliding her hands around his neck, she leaned forward as he raised his right hand.

“No, you really do…dress you up, can’t take you anywhere, McCain. What am I going to do with you?” He liked the easy banter and teasing that had developed between them. With one gentle swipe of his index finger, he removed the offending red sauce at the corner of her smiling mouth. Heat suffused his lower body. How many times had he ached to make love to her? So many…and yet he couldn’t. The time and place wasn’t right, and they both knew it. Dave lived in a special hell on earth because of it, and he saw the same need for him in Tara’s eyes.

Holding up his index finger as she eased back on her boot heels, he said, “See? It wasn’t a ruse.”

“You’re right. For once you’re being honest, Johnson.” And she chuckled. Releasing him, she cupped his hand and guided it to her mouth. Moving her lips over his index finger, she sucked off the sauce. Instantly, the look on his face changed. Feeling his raw desire for her, she licked his finger one more time and then released it. Even here they weren’t really alone. An Afghan soldier or group could appear soundlessly out of nowhere, and if they were caught being intimate, it wouldn’t go well. They didn’t want to jeopardize the connection that Dave had been able to forge with Chief Zaher.

“What a tease you are.”

“Me?” She touched her heart and grinned. “I’m a tease? Dude, you’re the pot calling the kettle black as far as I’m concerned.”

Putting his own MRE aside, Dave met her challenging smile. “I like the blue fire I see in your eyes. I like what you’re telling me without saying it.”

Looking around before she did it, Tara reached out and tenderly grazed his bearded cheek. The dark hair covering his lower face gave Dave an even more dangerous quality. “I miss our time together, too.”

“Yeah, war doesn’t exactly help lovers out, does it?” His skin prickled pleasantly where she’d touched him.

“No, it doesn’t….” Tara frowned as she rested her hands on the thighs of her dark brown cotton pants. How much she wanted to speak to Dave of what lay in her heart. She knew that what she felt was love, but she was afraid to admit it. They simply hadn’t the time for the kind of intimate conversations she craved. At times she saw a look in Dave’s eyes that she thought was more than just desire. Was it love? Too afraid to ask, she tried to be content with the present.

Just then, she heard the noise of several all-terrain vehicles approaching.

“The guys are back,” Dave said. Reaching over, he touched her chin and gave her a tender smile. “I like what I see in your eyes, babe. Just hold on to it for both of us, okay? We aren’t always going to be here in Afghanistan. At some point, they have to rotate us back stateside.”

Nodding, Tara absorbed his unexpected touch. “I will, Dave.”

He rose to his feet, his M–4 in his right hand as he looked over the lip of the crater. “Promise?” In the distance, he could see five vehicles speeding toward them, two men in each one, their mission complete. The yellow dust rose lazily into the noontime sky behind them.

“I promise….” And Tara stood up, brushed off the seat of her pants and picked up her rifle. Placing it over her left shoulder, she scrambled out of the bomb crater and onto the flat plain. Brown, desolate-looking hills rose before her, backed by higher and higher ridges and finally the razor-sharp, craggy mountains.

Dave had run ahead to meet his returning team members. Tara looked around. A solitary path wound along the plain at the base of the hills. Bombs had been dropped here last week because the area was a known minefield, and they needed this land for staging another strike against the Taliban hiding in caves in the mountains above them. After the bombing, Dave’s team had diligently gone over the entire area in search of any last mines that might not have gone off during the brutal pounding and explosions caused by the B–52’s.

The wind was chilling, and Tara pulled her tunic a little tighter as she walked. Dave had taught her to walk in his footprints, just in case there was a land mine they hadn’t found. His team had to go over the area one more time today, to make very sure there were no mines left before the troops and equipment began massing tomorrow.

A sudden gust of wind rose, slamming a thick, stinging cloud of dust into Tara’s face. Automatically, she raised her hand and closed her eyes. It was strong enough to force her to take a step to the left, off Dave’s path.

Click.

Tara froze. Oh no! Blinking, her eyes watering and her vision blurred, she jerked a look downward. There, barely visible, was the round metal edge of a land mine. And she had stepped on it.

Terror snaked through her. Heart slamming against her rib cage, she froze. Dave was fifty feet ahead, his attention on his team.

Sweat popped out on her brow. Grasping the nylon web strap of the rifle on her left shoulder, she cried, “Dave! I’ve stepped on a land mine!”

Whirling around at her cry, he stared at her, wide-eyed. Tara was standing there, her lips parted, terror written on her features.

“Don’t move!” he roared, and sprinted back toward her. His mind whirled with questions of how she’d found one. He thought they’d gotten them all. Damn it!

Gasping for breath, Tara continued to stare down at her right foot, which rested on top of the mine. Afraid to move, she barely glanced up when Dave came running toward her, yet the look of worry and anxiety on his face struck her deeply. If she moved her foot at all, the mine would explode. It would kill her instantly, or at the outside, blow off her leg and leave her limbless. Sobbing for breath, Tara tried to calm down.

Dave skidded to a halt ten feet away from her. “Just take it easy,” he rasped, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. “Don’t move, babe. God, don’t move at all. Let me see….” He followed his footprints back to where she had stepped off the path then got down on his hands and knees very carefully and gently. The least vibration might set off the mine.

“Why didn’t you follow my prints?” he demanded, breathing hard as he leaned closer. Digging into the yellow dust with his outstretched fingers, he located the cold metal of the land mine squarely beneath Tara’s booted foot.

“I—I tried, Dave,” she whispered raggedly, her voice off pitch with terror. “A gust of wind came up. It was so strong it knocked me off the track. I’m sorry…sorry…”

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, babe. Just stay where you are. I see the mine. You’re okay for now. As long as you keep the same amount of weight on it, it won’t blow up. Whatever you do, don’t shift your body. Hear me?” He wiped his mouth as he nailed her with a look meant to make her understand that if she moved, she would die.

“Yeah…yeah, I know. You drilled me on this,” Tara rasped.

“Hold on…I’ve got to alert my men. We have to get you out of this….” And he turned, moved away and then slowly unwound and stood up. His team had stopped their vehicles a hundred feet away and were dismounting. Dave hurried back toward them.

Tara could hear his voice in the distance; could hear the terror barely concealed in it as he gathered his team around him. She saw them all turn toward her. The stricken looks on their features only made her more fearful. Oh God, how was she going to get out of this alive? And what if one of them tried to help her and the mine went off, anyway? It would kill him, too.

Raising her hand slowly, Tara wiped her mouth, which felt cottony and dry. Suddenly, she was dying of thirst, but her water bottle was back in the crater with her pack. With her heart pounding in her breast like a runaway freight train, all she could do was stand helplessly and wait. Dave quickly gave orders and his men dispersed and went back to their packs, which were still in the vehicles.

Tara knew another strong gust of wind whipping down from foothills could make her lose her balance. The least movement would cause the mine to detonate. She’d be dead.

Suddenly, as she stood there, she realized she didn’t want to die. Watching Dave trot back toward her, his long knife drawn and in his right hand, Tara wanted to scream out in fear. But she didn’t. Instead, she swallowed hard, several times.

“Take some deep, calming breaths,” Dave told her as he approached. Seeing the fear in Tara’s huge blue eyes, he tried to keep his own voice low and soothing. It was nearly impossible. She was hunched over, her fingers tangled in the webbing of the M–4 rifle on her left shoulder. Her loose Afghan clothing whipped about in the inconstant breezes.

“Yeah…okay. What are you going to do, Dave?”

“First, I’m going to check the land around you to make sure there are no other mines. Then,” he said slowly, as he got down on his hands and knees, “I’ll carefully remove the sand from around the mine you’re on.”

“Oh God…”

“I know, I know, babe…just take it easy. Don’t panic on me. Just stay exactly where you are and we’ll get you out of this….”

She watched with wide eyes as Dave began to slide the tip of his knife into the sand, an ever widening circle around where she stood. Lifting her head, she saw Sergeant Burt Lovell approaching, carrying his own knife in his hand. His face was dark with worry, too. The rest of the team was staying back out of harm’s way.

“Burt?” she called.

“It’s okay, ma’am. Me and the captain have done this before. We’ll make it go twice as fast. We need to make sure there’re no more mines near you. Just take it easy, okay?”

Jerkily nodding, Tara watched him get down and go to work as Dave was going. Breathe, she ordered herself. Slow, deep breaths. You’re still alive, Tara. You’re still breathing….

“Gusts are coming!” Private Doug Seabert called out to them.

Oh, no! Tara tensed. The first gust struck. It slapped at her. Don’t move. Don’t move. Shutting her eyes tightly against the thick, yellow dust, she bit back a cry. No movement. None!

“You’re doing fine,” Dave called to her. He was now twenty feet behind where Tara was standing. Lovell was going the opposite direction, probing the earth with his knife. Trying to get a handle on his escaping emotions, Dave wanted to scream. Tara could die. Oh, God, he couldn’t let that happen! Why hadn’t he told her he loved her? Right now he couldn’t. His men couldn’t know of their relationship.

Tara felt her muscles beginning to shake. She was so tense and rigid that the muscle groups were beginning to complain.

“Dave…I’m starting to tremble. I can’t stop shaking….”

He looked up for a moment. Tara’s eyes were narrow with fear. “Try to relax. You can relax but keep the same weight on that leg. It’s okay, try it. You won’t blow us up. You’ve got to relax your muscles or you’ll get so tense that your trembling could set it off. Understand?”

“Yeah…yeah, I understand….” Fresh fear shot through Tara. How was she going to relax and yet stay steady enough that the mine didn’t detonate? She had to try.

Dave finally met Burt on Tara’s right side. “No more mines?”

“No, sir, none. We’re good to go.”

“Okay, go fetch that wooden plank you found. And I need a rock that weighs as much as she does.”

Burt slowly rose to his full height. He slid the knife back into its sheath. “Yes, sir, I’ll be right back.”

“Find the right rock, Burt. You know what to look for. Have Seabert bring me the plank.”

“You bet. I’ll be right back….”

Tara watched the sergeant leave. She heard Dave get up, then come around in front of her, his brows drawn down, his eyes narrowed. “W-what are you going to do? How can you help me out of this?”

“We’ll get a piece of wood and a rock that weighs as much as you do.” Kneeling down, he used the tip of the knife to begin removing sand, just enough to expose the land mine Tara was standing on.

Confused, she watched his very slow, careful movements. Heart pounding, she whispered rawly, “Oh, Dave, I’m so scared. I’m sorry I stepped off the path….”

“Hush, babe, you didn’t do it on purpose. The wind here is bad. There’s been more than a few times we’ve all been knocked sideways by it.”

“Y-you could have stepped on this mine….” Tara closed her eyes for a moment.

“Yeah,” he rasped grimly as he smoothed the sand away from the metal rim. The mine was round and rusty, and he recognized it as a Russian-made one.

“I thought you and your men cleared this area yesterday?”

“Most of it,” Dave corrected. “Not all of it. We had gone over this area, but we must have missed this one. We don’t have a mine detector with us. All we have are our knives and our eyes. We screwed up.”

Tara shook her head. “You’re all doing the best you can, Dave. I don’t blame you or anyone.”

He sat back on his heels and looked up at her, close enough to reach out and touch her. “I blame myself. I don’t want anything to happen to you, babe.”

Seeing the love for her burning in his eyes, Tara sobbed. She pressed her hand to her lips and forced herself to remain very still. “Oh, Dave, I love you. I should have told you before, but I was afraid….”

Holding her tear-filled gaze, he whispered raggedly, “And I love you, Tara. Never forget that. Now, just hold on. We’ll get you out of this in one piece. No way are you going to die. I just found you….”

Dave saw Burt coming back, staggering beneath the weight of a huge white rock. Tara weighed around a hundred forty pounds, and the sergeant had to estimate as closely as possible that the stone was that same weight, or more. Was he right? Dave didn’t know. Eyeballing the boulder that his sergeant struggled with, he thought it probably came close.

Tara saw Private Seabert approach with a rectangular piece of old, dried out planking. It wasn’t more than two feet in length or a foot in width.

“Give it to me,” Dave ordered Seabert, “and then back off. I don’t want anyone else hurt if we don’t do this right.”

Nodding, Seabert said, “Yes, sir…” and handed him the plank.

Dave set it carefully at his side. He was kneeling on Tara’s right side, the land mine mere inches away. He would be the one to do the dirty work. No one else.

“Okay?” he asked Tara, looking up into her tense face. He noted that two tracks of tears wound their way down her dusty cheeks.

“Y-yeah, okay.”

“I’d reach out and pat you, but I don’t want you to move,” he teased her quietly.

“Right now, all I want to do is fall into your arms, Dave, and be held by you.”

“Hold that thought, babe….” And he swung his gaze toward Lovell, who was huffing toward them with the boulder in his arms.

Tara watched, barely breathing, as the sergeant carefully placed the boulder behind her right foot, about six inches away from the exposed land mine. She listened as Dave quietly gave the sergeant instructions.

“Okay, Tara,” Dave said, looking up at her, the plank in his hands. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to gently ease the edge of the plank beneath your right heel. You’re going to have to allow me to slide it slowly in between you and that mine. All the while, you’re going to have to maintain the same weight on it. Once the plank completely covers the mine, Burt is going to roll the boulder forward on the exposed edge of the planking. As he does so, you’re going to have to slowly slide your foot forward, giving him more and more room to roll the boulder up on the plank. The mine won’t go off if more weight is on it than was there previously, it will go off if there’s less weight. Understand?”

Swallowing, her voice scratchy, she asked, “How does Burt know the rock weighs as much as me?”

The sergeant briefly smiled. “Ma’am, I think this rock is about a hundred and sixty pounds, by my estimate.”

“What if you’re wrong?” Tara rasped.

“Then we all die,” Dave told her quietly. “Don’t worry, Tara. This rock is heavy enough. You need to listen to me now, and do exactly as I say, when I say it. Are you ready?”

No, she wasn’t. Tara felt a lump rising in her throat. She felt her muscles shaking. Still, she struggled for calm. “Yeah, I’m ready. Let’s do it….” How brave she sounded. And how scared she was!

Dave inched the plank forward. Beads of sweat trickled into his narrowed eyes. For a moment, everything blurred. He eased the plank beneath Tara’s heel. “Okay, here it comes….” And he nudged it forward one slow, torturous inch at a time.

For the next five minutes, Tara felt as if her life was over. But the plank was smooth from age and weathering, allowing it to slide friction-free beneath the sole of her boot. She tried to remember to breathe, but kept holding her breath.

Dave maneuvered closer to Tara. The plank was now in position between her foot and the mine. “Okay, Burt, roll that rock up on it…and be nice and delicate about it….”

Tara saw the other team members watching them, saw the fear and anxiety on every face. Their expressions mirrored how she felt. Hearing the crunch of sand as the boulder was eased up on the lip of the plank, she froze.

“Good…good,” Dave murmured. “A little more now…yeah…we got it on the edge. Good…”

Tara heard the relief in his voice. Some of her fear abated because he sounded so positive. Every joint in her lower body ached. She was beginning to tremble in earnest from the hips downward. The crunching sound started again. She felt the boulder come up against her heel.

“Okay, babe, I want you to slowly ease your foot forward about two inches….”

Tara realized Dave had slipped and called her by the endearment. She knew the sergeant had heard it. Right now, that wasn’t important. As she carefully slid her boot forward, she found it easy to move along the smooth planking.

“Great,” Dave whispered. He was holding the board down with both hands, using his full weight to keep it steady. The mine wouldn’t go off under the circumstances unless it was very old. Not all Russian land mines were state of the art, he knew. Many went off without reasonable cause. Breathing through his mouth, he watched Burt roll the boulder forward, until it met the heel of Tara’s boot.

“Excellent, excellent,” Dave whispered. “Okay, Tara, this is it. I want you to slide your foot forward and off the plank. We’ve got the boulder on it now, plus my weight. Go ahead…move. And once you do, get as far away from us as fast as you can. Understand? Run to the team. They’re a safe distance away.”

“But…what about you and Burt?”

“We’ll be fine. Just do it, Tara…Now!”

Holding her breath, she slid her boot off the plank. Instantly, she heard the grinding of the boulder rolling forward.

Rushing away, she raced toward the team, who gestured for her to run to them.

Panting heavily, she stopped and turned around once she reached them. Her knees were wobbly and she found herself swaying dizzily. Someone took her M–4 off her shoulder. Another man helped her sit down in one of the all-terrain vehicles. Her gaze, however, was riveted on Dave and Burt as they knelt over the mine. Hands pressed against her heart, she felt raging fear for both of them. What if the rock wasn’t the right weight? What if, as Dave eased his own weight off the plank, the mine exploded?

Seconds seem to drag like hours for Tara. She watched as Dave slowly inched back, lifting his hands away from the plank. The banked terror in both men’s faces turned to relief as they slowly got to their feet and backed away.

Within a minute, it was all over. The boulder stayed on the board, unmoving. She saw Dave turn, sling his arm around Burt’s shoulders and slap him with hearty congratulations on the back before they both jogged forward. The entire team broke out into a cry of victory. Someone handed Tara a bottle of water. She thanked him and drank deeply, her throat parched.

As she lowered the bottle and wiped her wet lips, she saw Dave’s gaze pinned on her. Oh, how she wanted to fly to his arms, but she knew she couldn’t. Tara sat there on the verge of tears, battling them back. This team deserved her courage, not her sobs. Another time, she would cry and release this backlog of fear from her brush with death.

Right now, as Dave approached, she wondered what would happen next between them. In the midst of a terrible situation, they’d both confessed their love for one another.

Chapter 5

“We’re home,” Tara said as she walked back into the operations building where her life-changing mission had started nearly three months before. No one heard her say it because the families of the returning Spec For teams were surging around the heroes of Afghanistan. Dave had gotten separated from her by the crush of wives, children, parents and siblings who were joyously greeting the weary warriors.

It was 0300 in the morning, but Fort Campbell’s Ops building was bulging with loved ones who would have their men home for Christmas, which was two days away.

Shouldering her pack and rifle, Tara moved slowly through the jubilant crowd, her gaze pinned on the double doors that would lead outside to the snowy darkness. They’d had snow at Tarin Kowt before they left, and now here.

Tara forced back her tears as sadness filled her. Her time with Dave was at an end, she knew. Because he had been assisting the team that came in to replace them in that corner of Afghanistan, he hadn’t been able to devote any personal time to her. Tara understood and accepted that; a new team coming in had to get to know the lay of the land, the procedures and protocols that had been established.

“Wait!”

It was Dave’s voice rising above the din of noise. Tara halted near the doors. She saw him moving toward her, his green beret on his head, his face smooth-shaven once more and a glint in his dark eyes. Instantly, her heart speeded up. The look he gave her lightened her soul and made her hope again.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said with a grin as he pushed opened the brass-and-glass door for her.

Outside, Tara breathed deeply of the cool, refreshing air as they carefully moved down the concrete steps. Families were still coming and going, but the crowd had thinned.

“Over here,” he said, and pointed to a stately elm that stood in the center of the snow-covered lawn. He hefted his bag and rifle as he walked alongside her.

Tara dropped her pack near the gray trunk of the tree. Its girth was wide, indicating how old it was. Snowflakes twirled lazily out of the darkness above them. Straightening, she saw Dave drop his pack, too, and sling the M–4 over his left shoulder.

“This is a great night,” he told her with a grin, his breath a white mist in the frosty air.

“Yes, it is….” Tara smiled faintly. She leaned against the tree, feeling exhaustion threading through her. “It’s great to be home….”

“Speaking of which,” he said, lowering his voice so that only she could hear, “we haven’t had time to be together in the last couple of weeks.” Dave saw her lashes lift, revealing those heart-stopping blue eyes of hers. Since the incident with the land mine, he’d sworn to himself that he would treat every minute with her as if it were the last. Mouth tightening, he whispered, “Tara, I want you to stay here, with me…. I know you have thirty days leave coming. Stay here, babe…let’s explore what we have. Give ourselves the time we need under less pressured circumstances to see if it’s genuine. I know it is, but we need to do this for ourselves.” He stopped himself from reaching out to touch her cheek. Her hair had grown longer, the dark strands framing her oval face—a face he loved fiercely. Searching her eyes, he said, “What do you think? What do you want to do?”

“I wasn’t sure, Dave. About us…. You know—wartime romance and all…”

“Listen to me,” he rasped, coming closer, his head inches from hers. “If that mine situation brought one thing home to me, it’s that what I feel for you is real and deep. And lasting, Tara.” How he needed to kiss her! The last time had been two weeks ago, and he ached to crush her warm, soft mouth beneath his. To feel her strong, womanly arms come around his shoulders as she pressed herself wantonly against him.

“I thought you might want to go home to your family?”

He shook his head. “I’ll call them. They’ll understand. How about you? Your family?”

“Well…I had wanted to be with you. I was going to phone them, too….”

Heart lifting with relief, he looked around. They still couldn’t be too familiar with one another; showing affection for a fellow officer in public just wasn’t done. “That’s all I need to know. They’ve got you billeted at the BOQ, Barracks Officers Quarters?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll walk you over there. It’s not far from here. And then I’ll get a lift home to my apartment, which is off base. How about I pick you up tomorrow, say, at 1500? That will give us both a chance to sleep in and get over this jet lag. Pack your bag, because you’re moving in with me, babe. We’re going to celebrate Christmas together….”

“This smells so good,” Tara said as she cut into the thick, juicy portion of baked turkey. Dave’s apartment was small but surprisingly warm and comfortable. It was 1600, late afternoon, and he’d dropped by the BOQ to pick her up, then had brought her home. He’d made a complete turkey dinner for them all on his own, which surprised her. Most men didn’t know how to boil water, much less cook.

“Like it?” Dave sat at her elbow at the small rectangular table, which was beautifully set with a white linen tablecloth. A bright red poinsettia graced one corner. The gleaming silverware, white china and goblets of crimson wine added to the festive atmosphere. In the background, Christmas music played, inspiring warm feelings in Dave. Tara was his family now…or at least he hoped so.

“Yes,” Tara murmured. Looking at the fluffy mashed potatoes slathered in thick, dark brown gravy, and the chestnut stuffing, she added, “Did you sleep at all? This feast didn’t just appear out of nowhere.”

He grinned. “I got up early,” he admitted. “Helluva change from eating MREs out in the Afghan desert, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Tara said, “Sure is. Sand in every bite. We’ve probably eaten enough dirt to last us the rest of our lives.” She drank in how handsome he looked in civilian clothes. The winter storm was still blanketing the Midwest, and Kentucky now looked like a picture postcard. Dave wore a bright red sweater, a college-style white shirt beneath it, the collar starched and pressed. The jeans he wore fit his lower body to perfection, and Tara had to squelch the urge to run her hands across his hips and down his hardened thighs. Dave simply invited a hands-on approach, and she felt another kind of hunger stirring in her.

“I like the look in your eyes,” he confided in a conspiratorial tone. As he passed her the small bowl of cranberries, their fingers touched and he met her shy smile. Dave thought Tara looked incredibly beautiful in her pale pink angora sweater with its cowl neck. The tan slacks she wore flattered her lower body, reminding him of the delicious curves he’d memorized with his hands on those few, precious nights they’d spent together at Khalid’s home.

“I guess I’m hungry in other ways, too,” Tara confided. She felt heat moving up her neck and into her face. Seeing an understanding glint in Dave’s green eyes, she placed the cranberry bowl on the table between them.

“You’re dessert to me, no question.”

“And vice versa.”

“It’s been hell waiting,” Dave said as he sipped the burgundy wine, “but worth it.”

Frowning a little, Tara finished off her meal and put her plate aside. “Dave, you know I have to leave after thirty days. My job is in Washington, D.C.”

Picking up the plates, he stood and took them to the small kitchen, setting them in the sink. “Yeah, I know.”

“Kentucky is a long way from D.C.” Tara got up and followed him into the kitchen as he ran water over the plates and set them in the dishwasher.

“I’m working on that,” he murmured. Turning toward her, he wiped his hands on a nearby towel. “Right now, the most beautiful gift I’ve ever been given is standing in front of me….” And he stepped forward and placed his arms around Tara’s shoulders. Grazing her chin, he raised it and looked down into her worried gaze. “Love always finds a way, babe. Believe in that.”

Closing her eyes, Tara moved against him and slid her arms around his waist, her head pressed against his chest. Just the soothing sound of his heart beneath her ear calmed some of her anxiousness. “I want to, Dave. I really do….”

Kissing her soft, clean hair, he marveled at the glossy reddish strands mixed in with the darker ones. “Listen, if we could save your life after you stepped on that land mine, anything else is a piece of cake, believe me.”

Laughing, Tara raised her head and melted beneath his dancing green gaze. His smile was careless and boyish. “You know what I’d like to do right now?” she said playfully.

“Name it and it’s yours.”

“I want to go outside and make a snowman. I love making them.”

Dave nodded. They needed to work off this meal, anyway. “Let’s go do it….”

As daylight changed to darkness, the snow stopped falling. By the time the snowman, a substantial specimen, was built, Tara saw the moon rising above the naked branches of the trees in front of Dave’s apartment. Her breath a white mist, she laughed as he came over, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and admired their mutual work.

“Great teamwork.” The snowman had a green beret on its head, a red scarf around its neck and twigs for arms. Tara had found just the right size stones from around the edge of the building to make its eyes, nose and mouth. “A Spec For snowman,” he exclaimed.

Laughing, Tara said, “He looks ready to enlist, Captain.”

Pulling her against him, Dave murmured, “The last two hours flew by. Look at that moon. She’s beautiful.” And he pointed upward into the dark sky. The moon was past its first quarter, shining like a silvery lantern and casting shadows around the yard where they stood.

“Every full moon was dangerous for us over in Afghanistan,” Tara whispered. Absorbing Dave’s nearness, the feel of his arm across her shoulders, she saw him lose his smile and nod. The bright light of the moon made them targets when they roved around at night looking for the Taliban. The dark of the moon was always their friend, she had discovered.

“I know… Hey, let’s go in. I want to love you, Tara….”

Closing her eyes, she smiled softly and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “Yes….”

In the bedroom Tara found a queen-size bed with a downy quilt of white across it. Her heart raced with anticipation as she stood near it, with Dave next to her, his hands on her hips as he looked down into her uplifted face. His fingers moved to the hem of her sweater and she felt him begin to slide it upward. The moonlight shafted through the gossamer lavender curtain panels, casting beams across the oak floor where they stood.

The fine prickle of the sweater grazing her flesh as he lifted it over her head made her shiver. Beneath it, Tara wore a pale pink silk camisole and no bra. As she watched Dave place the sweater over a straight-backed chair nearby, she smiled at him.

“My turn…” She stepped boldly up to him and eased his red sweater off.

“I like this,” he murmured wickedly, and allowed her to open his shirt, one button at a time. When he saw her fingers tremble slightly, he leaned down and gently teethed her earlobe. For a moment, she didn’t move. Smiling, he knew he’d found a delicious spot that gave her pleasure. With his mouth against her temple, nuzzling soft, silken strands of her hair, he breathed in her fragrance as a woman.

“Keep going….” he rasped near her ear.

Laughing softly, Tara said, “You’re making this tough, Dave!” And he was. His mouth trailed a series of soft, provocative kisses across her brow, and then he teethed her earlobe once more. The prickles came again, wild and electric. Finally, she divested him of the shirt. It fell in a heap at their feet.

Placing her hands on his hard, flat stomach, she felt the warmth of him and the strength of him. Sliding her palms upward, she ran her fingers through the short, dark hair across his massive chest, making him groan. Tara closed her eyes and felt her knees weakening as his large, square hands grazed her breasts beneath the camisole.

“Just getting to touch you,” Dave breathed, as he worked on the closure on her slacks, “is grace to me. You know how you go through life trying to do right by others? You get burned so many times and you wonder if it’s all worth it.” He opened his eyes and drew back to drown in Tara’s vivid blue gaze as the slacks fell with a whisper around her ankles and feet. Helping her step free of them, he felt her hands settle on the waistband of his jeans.

“Grace,” Tara said. “I like being seen as grace in your life.”

“I never thought I had any,” Dave murmured, easing out of the jeans and pushing them aside. Gripping her hand, he led her to the bed. “Until now. Until you came into my life, babe.” Lying down, he brought Tara alongside him. Her legs were long and strong. Moving his palm from her hip down one firm, smooth thigh, he added in a deep, husky tone, “You’re my gift, you know that? I knew it from the first moment I saw you, but I fought it.” Shaking his head, he began to ease away the camisole from Tara’s body. “Stupid me.” He grinned crookedly as he rolled over to look at her breasts for the first time.

Tara couldn’t speak as his roughened hand slid reverently around the curve of her breasts. Instantly, her nipples hardened and she moaned, pressing herself against him. Before her mind turned completely to mush, she pushed the boxer shorts he wore down his hips. Dave helped by removing them and casting them aside. All that was left were her silken panties, which he turned his attention to next.

Wild tingles moved provocatively over her skin when he slid his index finger beneath the band. As he flattened his hand against her belly and eased the panties down her legs, Tara felt a hunger she’d never experienced before. She looked up and saw him smiling down at her, like a man who was proud of the woman he loved. The moment he settled his hand on her rib cage and caressed the curve of her breast again, she sighed.

“You saved my life….” she whispered tremulously, arching against him, wanting more. “I could see how much you loved me then, Dave. I saw it in your eyes. I heard it in your voice….”

Leaning down, he kissed her lips, which parted beneath the onslaught. The tension of her body against his, the warmth, the insistent movement of her hips, made him groan once more. Tearing his mouth from hers, he rasped, “I love you with my whole heart and soul, Tara. I always will….”

Moving her hand across his hip, she explored the lower part of his body, committing it to memory as he kissed her more and more deeply. Their breathing was rapid; their hearts raced erratically. Lost in pleasures, Tara allowed the need she’d felt for Dave all these months to rise within her. Boldly, she curved her slender leg around his thicker, stronger one and pulled him on top of her.

As their hungry mouths broke apart, she smiled up at him. His eyes were narrowed and feral looking, those of a hunter who had his prey in sight. They were focused on her, and she felt her heart explode with primal love for him. “Love me, Dave. Love me with everything you have because that’s what I’m about to do with you….” And she slid her hands up to his head and drew his mouth down to hers.

Arching her hips demandingly against his, Tara felt his length and hardness press against her. The sensation was dizzying, dazzling. Closing her eyes, meeting his strong mouth with her own, she felt him slide his hand beneath her hips and raise her slightly, just enough to allow him entrance. The moment was exquisite, their journey a heartbeat away. Breath suspended, Tara opened her eyes and looked into his.

“Yes….” she whispered. “Yes…now…” Her lips parted and she threw her head back as she felt him slide powerfully into her liquid, heated depths. The joy of their meeting was like a sudden thunderstorm, washing the world with wild, vivid color, motion, feeling and sounds. The movement, the rhythm established between them was like a potent ocean tide coming into shore, pounding, pulverizing. Tara tasted the sweat of Dave’s temple as he leaned down, his head next to hers, his powerful body covering hers with each pumping movement. Reaching upward, she slid her fingers across his bunched, damp shoulders, found his mouth and thrust her tongue deeply into it.

In that moment, he tensed and so did she. The wild, throbbing heat that exploded deep within her body moved outward like an expanding rainbow arcing across the sky. She tore her mouth from his and her cry of joy punctuated his low snarl of pleasure. He gripped the sides of her head and held her captive to prolong their mutual passion. As Tara spiraled downward, feeling the delicious weakness that followed her climax, she fell into his strong, awaiting arms. They collapsed together, perspiration running in rivulets where their bodies met and molded, their breathing chaotic and swift. Closing her eyes, Tara turned her head, her lips near his ear.

“I love you, Dave Johnson. I love you with every fiber of my being. Never forget it…never…”

“Merry Christmas,” Dave told her as he handed her a small, red foil wrapped gift tied with a silver ribbon. They were sharing hot chocolate and Danish pastries the next morning near the open fire-place. The white sheepskin rug on the hearth was from New Zealand, and Tara looked pretty as a picture sitting on it, clothed in a fleecy, pale lavender robe that outlined her strong, feminine form.

Looking up, she took the gift. “I never expected anything, Dave….”

He sat down next to her and picked up his mug of hot chocolate. “I know you didn’t. Go ahead. Even though it’s only Christmas Eve, you can open it.” He grinned at her over the rim.

Laughing, Tara set her own cup on the wooden floor next to the rug. They’d slept after their lovemaking, and then, shortly before dawn, he’d loved her again. The experience was so beautiful it had made Tara cry. There was an incredibly tender side to Dave, and he’d given her that gift as dawn broke on the horizon. Body still glowing from his touch, she crossed her legs beneath the robe.

“When did you have time to get me a gift?” she wondered as she quickly tore off the wrapping.

“Oh, well…you’ll see,” he told her enigmatically. Tara’s hair was soft and mussed, her lips well kissed and her cheeks pink. It was her eyes, that soft, doelike gaze when she looked at him, that made Dave feel like Hercules and not just an ordinary man. She made him happy. Fulfilled.

Opening it, Tara gasped. “Oh! This is lapis lazuli, isn’t it?” She held up a gold necklace that had an oval pendant of the blue gemstone dangling from it.

“Sure is,” he answered. “Made by the old jeweler in Tarin Kowt. You remember him? An old man in his seventies? Habib Osmani?”

Gazing down at the beautiful, feminine piece of jewelry, Tara whispered, “Oh, yes, I do remember him. He was such a dear old man. I always thought of him as the village grandfather. Everyone loved him. He was so kind to others, and generous….”

“I asked him to make you this,” Dave told her in a conspiratorial tone, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Do you like it, babe? It’s supposed to match the color of your eyes….”

Moved beyond words, Tara smiled up at him. “Oh, yes, Dave, I love this! I like the fact that he made it. It’s as if he’ll always be a part of us….”

“I was worried…”

“I love it…like I love you, darling….” She held it up to him. “Put it on me?”

Getting up, Dave moved around to her back and fastened the necklace around her throat. The deep blue stone settled between her breasts, over her large, giving heart. “There.”

Touching the stone with her fingertips, Tara turned and moved into his awaiting arms. The fire popped and crackled pleasantly in the background. The sun was peeking out, the sky a pale blue outside the frost-covered windows. Nestling her head against his warm chest where his robe had opened, she closed her eyes. “I love you so much, Dave….”

“I know,” he whispered. Easing his one arm from around her, he dug into the pocket of his terry-cloth robe. “I have one more gift for you, babe. Here it is….”

Opening her eyes, Tara laughed briefly. “What is this?” He handed her a neatly folded sheaf of papers that had been stapled together.

“Something I hope you like as much as I do….” And he kept her cradled in his arms as she opened them.

“Oh! Oh, Dave!” Tara gasped, sitting up abruptly and turning around. She looked at the papers again to make sure she hadn’t misread them, and then up at him as he grinned wickedly at her.

“I—is this for real?” she asked, holding the sheaf up to him.

“Official orders, babe. Sure, they’re real.”

Blinking, her heart pounding, Tara reread them again. “It says I’m to report here, to Fort Campbell, Kentucky, on January 22 to put a language lab together to teach Special Forces A teams how to speak Pashto.”

“That’s right. And it’s a two-year assignment.” He reached out and touched her bright red cheek. “That means, among other things, you’ll be here with me. We’ll have time together, Tara…if it’s what you want?”

Blinking back tears, she sniffed and read the orders yet again. Her mind spun. How had Dave managed to pull this off? Wiping her tears away with trembling fingers, she whispered, “Oh, yes, that’s what I want, Dave. To be here with you. To make a go of what we discovered in Afghanistan….”

“Good,” he murmured, pulling her back into his arms and cradling her head against his shoulder. “This gives ‘comrade-in-arms’ a whole new meaning, doesn’t it?” And he smiled down at her.

“Yes, and how appropriate, darling….” She waved the papers helplessly. “But how? How did you do this? I know you had a hand in this, Dave.”

“Guilty as charged,” he said, kissing her temple, her cheek and then moving his lips tenderly across hers. He tasted the salt of her tears—tears of joy. Lifting his mouth away, their noses nearly touching, he said, “I called Morgan Trayhern before we left Afghanistan, from Kandahar. I told him I loved you, and asked if it was possible for him to move heaven and hell to get you out of the Pentagon and to my part of the country.” He grinned as he watched her luminous blue eyes widen like those of a child. “He said he’d get it done, that love between a man and a woman was of national importance.”

“Whose idea was it for me to set up a language lab here?”

“Mine,” he admitted, proud of the idea.

“Between you two men, I didn’t have a chance.”

“Did you want one?”

Chuckling, Tara shook her head and placed the orders aside. Moving her hand up the nubby material of his robe, she drowned in the joy she saw burning in his forest-green eyes.

“Not a chance, Captain Johnson. All I want is you. What we have. And the time to explore one another even more.”

“Oh, yes, for a long, long time,” he agreed, his smile widening when he saw the deviltry shining in her eyes as she leaned up to kiss him.

“Forever…” Tara breathed against his mouth. “Forever, darling….”

IN LOVE AND WAR
Copyright © 2003 by Harlequin Books S.A.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-6271-7

The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

A MILITARY AFFAIR
Copyright © 2003 by Merline Lovelace

COMRADES IN ARMS
Copyright © 2003 by Eileen Nauman

AN UNCONDITIONAL SURRENDER
Copyright © 2003 by Candace Phillips Irvin

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

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Table of Contents

COMRADES IN ARMS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5