Prologue

 

Hyatt Regency Dulles, Herndon, Virginia

A tall, dark-haired soldier walked into the Hyatt Regency, pausing just inside the entrance long enough to locate the front desk, then headed toward it, unaware he was being watched.

A young woman had just stopped beside a potted palm in the lobby to respond to a text when she spotted the soldier walking in.

When he paused to take the lay of the land, the hair stood up on the back of her neck. It was like watching a panther scoping out its prey. When he shifted his deployment bag higher up on his shoulder and started moving through the throng with a cautious stride, the first thing that crossed her mind was “stealth.”

She watched him as he checked in, saw him pocket the key card, and then as he turned to walk away, he did that thing again—taking that long look before moving forward. She wanted him to see her. She wanted to know what his first reaction would be, so she moved away from the palm and into his line of vision and waited.

He’d already seen the potted palm, and then he saw her—motionless. Watching him. And his entire body went still.

She sighed. Yes. He feels it, too.

Conscious thought fell away as she started toward him. The need to be in his space was as strong as her need to breathe, and then they were standing face-to-face, searching for something, anything, that would explain what was happening.

She scanned the arch of his brows. The curve of his lips. The slight flare of his nostrils.

He saw the steady pulse throbbing at the side of her neck.

And then she spoke, and the sound embraced him. The instant shock of wanting to be inside her rocked him to the core. Was this what happened in love at first sight?

“Hey, Soldier Boy, are you coming or going?” she asked.

He was watching the way her lips shaped the words when he realized she was waiting for an answer.

“Going,” he said.

She shivered. His voice was as deep as his eyes were dark.

“Got someone waiting for you back home?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I think I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Do you have time for a drink?” she asked.

“I have all night.”

A wave of sadness moved through her. One night. Was that all?

“So do I,” she said. “But if one night is all we have, then no last names, no boundaries, and no regrets. Can you live with that?”

“I don’t think I will live without it,” he said softly.

***

He stowed his bag in her room and then followed her down to the bar. They drank and they ate, and then engaged in the foreplay of lovers. Soft whispers. Quiet laughs. The back of his finger tracking the curve of her cheek. Her knee pressed against his thigh. Her skin was so soft, but the untamed curls of her red hair were what intrigued him. Making him wonder if she was as wild and unruly.

She was in the middle of telling him about the randomness of this happening, and how if her meeting hadn’t run late, she would never have seen him, when he stood abruptly and held out his hand.

Startled, she looked up, saw the want on his face, and went with him.

They made it to her room without so much as a glance at each other—without saying a word. It was the click of the dead bolt after the door closed behind them that broke the spell.

They began tearing off their clothes, and then she was in his arms and they were falling, falling down onto the bed, and the rest of the way in love.

In heat. Lust. Passion.

Call it what you will, they were there.

They couldn’t get enough. They couldn’t find a place to slow down.

She feared she’d never see him again.

He didn’t know if he would come back alive to even look for her.

She was his gift.

He was under her skin.

They would never be the same.

Even after she finally fell asleep in his arms, he lay watching her, storing up this memory for the bad times he knew were coming as he headed into his second tour of duty in Iraq.

***

His flight out of Washington Dulles left at 8:00 a.m., and he was dressed and walking out the door at half past six. He paused on the threshold and looked back, needing that last sight of her. She was curled up on her side, sound asleep and clutching his pillow.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her goodbye.

She’d laid down the ground rules. No boundaries. No last names. No regrets.

But even as his plane was taxiing down the runway for takeoff, he was filled with nothing but regret. If only he’d known her last name.

***

She woke up suddenly, and even before she opened her eyes, she knew he was gone. His scent was all over her, and she could still feel his mouth on her body and his hands in her hair. She was only twenty-four years old, and he’d ruined her for ever wanting another man. He was in her blood, and she didn’t even know his last name.