Wingman Warriors - Joint Forces Part 33

d.a.m.ned if she didn't feel eighteen again.

Phone pressed to her ear, she smiled back at him, flicked her hair over her shoulder, played along. "I might be free, if the right flyboy asked."

"Well, babe, I'm asking." He angled away from the door frame, ambled closer, his big, muscled body drawing nearer, filling her eyes and her heart. "And I intend to keep right on asking until I can convince you to go out with me."

He stopped inches away.

She clicked off her phone but kept it cradled against her neck, soaking up the silly romantic gesture a little while longer. "You are so crazy sometimes."

"Not often." He set his phone on the end table. "And only for you, babe. Only for you."

He reached for her phone, as well, and placed it beside his before lifting her hand, kissing her palm.

Definitely eighteen again, but with a forty-year-old's wisdom on how to do things better this go-round. "I

want you to come home. For good."

"That's where I want to be." He folded her hand against his chest, against his heart thumping along at a

pace as fast as hers. "Not just because you're pregnant, but because I can't stand the thought of living the rest of my life without you beside me."

She gathered the beautiful words up into her heart with surety and happiness, because, by G.o.d, J.T.

never lied.

He stared down at their linked fingers and rather than pus.h.i.+ng him to talk, she knew now to wait. He would come around to filling the silence if she simply gave him the chance.

"I spoke with the flight surgeon when she checked out the lump on my head."

Her racing heart stopped. "You're okay?"

"Totally fine." The twinkle in his eyes jump-started her heart again. "Although you'll have to keep me

awake all night."

She sagged closer, her hips rocking against his. "I think that can be arranged."

"Thank G.o.d." His forehead fell to rest against hers. His chest expanded with two hefty sighs before he

continued, "About my discussion with the flight surgeon. I asked her to recommend a marriage

counselor."

Rena's throat went as tight as her chest. She'd been prepared to wait, work, hope, pray that things would work the way that she wanted. But to have him make the huge step on his own... Oh G.o.d, she loved this man.

Steady gray eyes stared down at her with no doubts to cloud their beautiful-sky appeal. "Up the stakes

as high as you want. I'm not walking again."

Sometimes hormones were a wonderful thing. Letting all those happy tears well up and flow free, Rena flung her arms around his neck. "Oh G.o.d, J.T., I love you."

J.T. felt her words rocket right into him, straight for his heart-where she belonged. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest-also where she belonged. "I know, babe. And I don't ever intend to take that for granted again."

He dropped a kiss on her head while her sighs caressed through his flight suit, still so d.a.m.n stunned and glad to see over her shoulder where she'd made room for his clothes in their closet again.

"h.e.l.l, I can't believe I'm the lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d who stole your heart when you could have had anybody." His fingers tangled in her hair. "There are so many things I wanted to give you over the years. Still things I wish I could give you. But you can be certain I love you. Always have, and it only gets stronger with time."

"Things?" Her stunned response drifted up.

"Yeah, a bigger house, trips, a grocery budget that didn't include coupon clipping."

"I never asked for any of that."

"But you deserve it all."

She angled back, hints of her fiery temper sparking in her chocolate eyes. "Do you really think that little of me?"

"What?"

She thunked his chest. "Do you believe I'm so shallow that I would only be happy if we had more money? I think I'm insulted here, J.T."

Rena clasped his flight-suit collar in two determined hands, strong hands that nurtured, loved and, yes, even demanded. "Do you have any idea how proud I am of you, h.e.l.l, of myself, too, for that matter, and everything we've built over the years?"

The words rolled out of her, ringing with a conviction he couldn't fight even if he tried. And he definitely didn't want to fight with her anymore.

Her soft hands caressed up to his face. "We started with nothing, and in twenty-two years you've risen to a rank most in your profession never see. You've given me three precious babies, and we've brought up two of those children. They may not be perfect, but then neither are their parents and I'm still proud of who Nikki and Chris are becoming. Even our house, we did this from the front porch you replaced to that ivy I stenciled."

Those words rolling from her settled into him with a rightness that brought peace. Yeah, he still wanted to give her more, but now knew he could keep her happy while they waited.

He turned his face to kiss her hand again. "I'm partial to that ivy."

"Me, too." Her arms looped around his neck. "You've given me something I never had as a child. The chance to hold up my head. To be proud of who I am."

Studying her dark eyes, he found flecks and sparks of pain he'd seen reflected in the mirror and in the eyes of his crewmates. He'd understood about Rena's upbringing and had been determined to take her away from the ugliness of that world. But he'd never realized until now that his wife had also spent time in a war zone. With guns. Deceit. Danger. What a scarring way for a child to grow up, now that he actually thought about it.

In flipping his switch, maybe he'd closed off the chance for his wife to share some burdens with him, too.

Something he now knew to fix.

Rena's arms slipped forward and she lifted his hands, kissed each palm as he'd done to hers. "I love your hands and what they do for me, but I need you for so many reasons that have nothing to do with what your body can provide." She tapped his forehead. "What are you thinking?"

A thousand things, about their past, her past, all things they could share later in bed. And with the counselor. And on moonlit nights by the sh.o.r.e.

For right now, he'd settled for the obvious, most important answer and a piece of himself to share with her. "You reminded me of a quote from a Shakespearean play, A Midsummer Night's Dream, I think. It goes something like, 'Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.'"

"Wow. Am I ever one lucky lady or what?" She arched up against him, whispering against his mouth. "I get love, a hunky flyboy and sensitive poetry all in one fella."

His mouth found hers, settled, held while relief over their new start swept through both of them.

And then the chemistry soared. Ooh-rah.

Her lips parted or his mouth opened. Who could tell what happened first? And what the h.e.l.l did it matter? Because he was too busy exploring the warm, moist heat of Rena.

She tipped back, tugging him down onto the bed with her. Definitely ooh-rah.

He caught himself with his elbows against the bounce of the mattress, careful of the baby, of her. "You still haven't answered my question."

"What question was that?" She tickled her fingers along the nape of his neck.

"Will you go out with me this Friday?" Gathering a fistful of her hair, he kissed along her jaw, her ear, not at all averse to using a little persuasion. "We could catch a movie, go park by the sh.o.r.e afterward."

"Yes, I would love to go out with you, anywhere, anytime. Surprise me." She stroked her delicate foot up the length of his leg, slow, deliberate, until her leg hooked around his hip. "And it's a sure bet you'll get lucky on the first date."

Epilogue.

How could a guy get so lucky in one lifetime?

Smiling, J.T. followed his wife up the stairs to their bedroom, the gentle sway of her hips, the swing of her spiral curls along her back drawing his eyes as always. Framed pictures of kids marked the years. And soon, another photo would be added to the collection once the hospital's newborn picture taken just last night was developed.

He cupped his hands around his son's tiny back, securing the baby to his shoulder with a seasoned grip. Like riding a bicycle. J.T. remembered the parent-hold well. One hand cradled under his son's bottom, the other hand cupping Jamie's dark, curly head.

Jamie. James Renard Price. Not a junior, but rather James for J.T. and Renard as a masculine form of Rena. Their two names blended for this baby who had brought them together.

He and Rena had come a long way in the past few months with the help of their marriage counselor. Not always easy, spilling their thoughts, but well worth the effort in the payback of a solid relations.h.i.+p. He'd learned to open up more. She'd learned that his quiet moods didn't mean distant. Rena had even told him she'd gained all the more faith in her abilities now that she'd seen how effective counseling could be from the other side of the desk.

So much love flowed freely these days, for his wife, for his new son, his other children, too. Life was good.

And about to get even better once Rena saw the surprise waiting to welcome her home.

Like a teenager ready to impress his first girlfriend, he followed her up the last stair, down the hall, to their bedroom. He stopped his wife before she could open the closed door. "Wait right here."

"How come?"

He sealed a quick kiss on her lips. "Trust me."

Her smile caressed his mouth. "All right then, flyboy. I'm waiting."

Tucking inside their room, he placed their sleeper-clad son in the middle of their bed, on Rena's favorite quilt with rings. He tugged Jamie's tiny foot. "Hold on for just a second, little man, while I go back for your mama."

J.T. made a quick sweep of the room to ensure everything was in place before sprinting to the hall where his wife waited with suspicious, but twinkling eyes.

"Okay, babe. Ready now." Gently, he swept her up into his arms.

Her hair trailing over his wrist, she laced her fingers behind his neck with a squeak and laugh. "I really can walk."

"I know you can." He settled her closer, enjoyed the scent and softness of her. And yeah, he wanted to pamper her a little. He'd forgotten how tough childbirth was on a woman, even with a quick four-hour labor like Rena's. He needed to hold her close. "But can't a guy be romantic?"

Ah, he loved how she melted against him. h.e.l.l, he just loved her.Sighing, she relaxed in his arms. "By all means, then, carry away."He stared down into the dark eyes of this woman who'd stolen his heart at an air show nearly twenty-three years ago. "I love you."

She stroked his face. "I love you, too." She nestled her head under his chin. "Now let's enjoy the peace and quiet while we can." Amen to that. Nikki would be home soon to meet her new brother, and Chris would be bringing his girlfriend over to see Jamie as well.

Since his older friends had graduated and left for college, Chris seemed to have come out more, found his footing, especially once the police had fully cleared him. The lifeguard job had brought a girlfriend to his tower and into his life. He was calmer, more settled.

Knowing the possibility of a swim-team scholars.h.i.+p loomed in Chris's future calmed a part of J.T. that would never totally stop worrying about money. Of course, he worried a little less now that he'd made Chief Master Sergeant.

J.T. shuffled aside other thoughts, focused on his wife instead. He didn't want to think of anything except the homecoming surprise he had planned for Rena. Romancing his wife was turning out to be fun as h.e.l.l. Since folks from the squadron would be showing up to drop off dinner soon, he needed to get moving with his plan. He toed the bedroom door open wide and waited for his wife's reaction.

Flowers bloomed on every surface along with her potted plants-all mixed among candles. By the bed, bottled water perched in an ice bucket beside a plate of strawberries and grapes.

Rena's gasp of surprise, of happiness, told him all he needed to know. Romance rocked.

"So, Jamie," he called to his son, the little guy pumping his tiny feet in response to his father's voice. "Do you think your mama likes the flowers?"