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  “What are we doing?” she squeaked, breathless to keep up with him. She squeezed his waist tighter, her evening bag caught between them.

  “I’m pretty sure they call this one a waltz.”

  He spun her from one side to the other, her hair and her dress swirling in a half circle.

  A laugh bubbled up from inside. She had no idea how to dance—the waltz or anything else—but he was such a strong partner, he seemed to send her in whatever direction she needed to go.

  “You’re fantastic.” And utterly surprising. “You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to keep things light. I feel like I’m flying.”

  Or riding an amusement-park ride where you never knew which way you’d go next.

  “Good. Next, I hope you feel seduced.” He brought them close to the edge of the dock so that the water was at their feet for a moment. “Have you heard what they say about men who can dance?”

  “Hmm. You’ll have to refresh my memory.” She could have stared at him all night in his crisp white dress shirt and his dark navy suit. A light blue plaid tie had hints of silver and fuchsia to coordinate with her dress—although how he’d found something to go with an outfit she’d only picked out the day before, she’d never know.

  Danny leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

  “They’re good in bed,” he confided, the words a warm stroke along her hair that made her shiver.

  “I already knew that about you.” Her skin tingled with awareness and the desire to be alone with him.

  How could she have dreaded intimacy for so long, only to have all her latent sensuality restored with a vengeance by this one man? It made no sense that any man would be a magic cure, right? Still, she couldn’t deny how he made her feel and she closed her eyes to savor the heat simmering inside.

  “I figured a reminder wouldn’t hurt.” His fingers flexed ever so slightly against her back, a delicious pressure that made a tantalizing promise about what awaited her later.

  She missed a step, forgetting to follow his lead when she was so wrapped up in the moment.

  “Oh!” She would have stumbled except that he lifted her gently, saving her feet from having to do any work at all.

  It was only one moment, a tiny instant of being airborne with him before he set her on her feet and the music came to an end.

  All around them guests applauded the music and, she realized, them. The other dancers paused to look toward her and Danny, lifting their clapping hands to show their approval. Someone whistled. Danny gave a discreet bow and then drew her aside, away from the others, onto a long pier that led out into the water off the main dock. There was a pair of vacant wooden chairs out on the end, bracketed by two wrought-iron candelabra. She guessed that was their destination, but he took his time on the stroll while the chamber musicians transitioned into another song.

  “Should you be mingling more?” She peered back over her shoulder, fearful she might find his parents or his brothers glaring after them. “I feel like I’ve been taking up all your time when your family must want to see you.”

  “While this party is technically for my homecoming, my parents haven’t spent much time with Kyle’s or Ax’s new girlfriends, so this party is kind of a welcome to the family for them, too.” Danny paused to stare down into the water. “I also think they have a lot of plans to make for the wedding. And there are a lot of out-of-towners starting to arrive for the festivities, so my folks have to greet them, as well.”

  “What about you?” She stayed on the heavy carpet in the center of the pier, which must have been laid down just for the party. “Don’t you have a lot of out-of-towners to greet, too?”

  She’d given him some alone time when she’d ducked into the house to talk to Jennifer, but other than that, he’d only really visited with his brothers over dinner.

  “Keith and Ryan are the public faces of the family. They enjoy that kind of thing. The rest of us...we pick our moments. I’m sure the dance bit back there will have won me some points with my mom. That counts as entertaining the crowd for a few minutes anyway.”

  She peered back toward the house, which was all lit up in white lights, the party in full tilt on the lawn. It was all so gracious and beautiful. For a moment, she could almost see herself being able to fit in here. Certainly, Danny’s family didn’t seem to have the kind of expectations that her mom and dad did, where an offspring was supposed to follow a preordained path.

  “I think it’s great that your parents have encouraged their kids to follow their strengths and be their own person.” Her vibrating evening bag reminded her that she’d never be so fortunate.

  “There’s still a certain amount of pressure.”

  “Really?” It seemed hard to imagine. “You’ve all done such different things.”

  Danny shrugged off his jacket and laid it over the back of one wooden chair.

  “But you’ll notice we’ve all done them fairly well.” He draped an arm across her shoulders so that they both faced the glittering bright jewel box that was the Murphy home in the darkness. “My father was adamant about hard work and tangible achievement. We were pitched in competition against one another from the time we were old enough to run across the yard. It was about who ran fastest. Who skated the best, sailed the smoothest, threw a ball the farthest.”

  “Were there points for who could play the most bitching guitar riff?”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Definitely not.”

  “Was that one of the reasons you walked away from the band?” She wasn’t sure what answer she hoped for. Part of her feared he’d stopped playing with his group to enter the military, something that her kidnapping had helped spur. Then again, she hated to think he would have given up his shot at a future in music just because his family didn’t recognize the value in rock and roll.

  “Not really.” He turned her toward him in the moonlight, the water lapping up against the dock at their feet. “My priorities simply changed. But the thing about music is that your love of it doesn’t go away just because you don’t become famous. Sometimes it’s enough just to enjoy something you’re good at.”

  She wished her mom shared that point of view—that Stephanie didn’t need some highbrow job to be happy and successful. Then again, maybe she hadn’t done enough to show her parents that her photography fulfilled her.

  “It doesn’t?” Her voice caught as he stared down at her and it felt like they were all alone in the world. She’d thought she wanted to keep things light, but she wouldn’t trade the intense way he looked at her for anything.

  “Nope. You can always find the music again. Pick up right where you left off and savor it.” He skimmed his hands up her arms and along her shoulders. Then, he lifted a palm to cup her chin.

  When he kissed her, she could have sworn something melted inside her. Her last reserve, maybe. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed as if she could take a deep breath and let it out again in a way she hadn’t been able to in a very, very long time. She didn’t know where this thing between them was going, but she refused to try to force it into some artificial parameters anymore.

  “Danny.” She breathed his name over his lips between kisses, the man becoming her whole world. “I can’t wait to go back to the gatehouse with you.”

  The air near the water was cooler now, making her seek the heat that rolled off his body. She gripped his biceps, mindful that their silhouettes would be visible from the house with the candelabra lights behind them. Otherwise, she would have been plastered to him.

  “Good, because I’m so ready to have you all to myself.”

  “Is it too early?” She looked back at the party and the full dance floor.

  “God, no. This is the most socializing I’ve done in years.” He picked up his jacket and set it around her shoulders, carefully extracting her hair and laying it over the lightweight wool. “When I get home from a deployment, it’s usually all I can do to string a sentence together.”

  He was already leading h
er back toward the main dock and the rest of the party, so she couldn’t gauge his expression, but it unsettled her to think his work would be that draining.

  “Oh.” She hastened her steps to walk at his side, careful to remain on the carpet runner so her heels didn’t fall into the cracks between the planks. “I didn’t think about that when I surprised you in Norfolk the other day.”

  He ducked closer to speak into her ear. “The last thing I feel is tired around you.”

  Her skin hummed with awareness, his strong arm keeping her tucked to his side. Her breath came faster and she wished they were already back at the gatehouse. Now that she’d recovered her sensual self, she couldn’t indulge it enough.

  “I’ll just say my thank-yous to your family and then you can remind me why men who can dance are so good in bed.” Her heart beat faster, anticipation flowing through her veins like high-proof alcohol even though she hadn’t visited the bar once tonight.

  “Should you check your phone first?” he asked, nodding toward her purse. “It seems like someone really wants to get in touch with you.”

  Belatedly, she realized he referred to the active vibrating coming from her satiny evening bag. Her phone buzzed so often she hardly noticed it.

  Some of the heat in her veins cooled at the realization she needed to deal with her mother before Whitney Rosen worked herself into a frenzy of worry.

  “It’s my mom,” she explained, embarrassed to admit her mom’s semineurotic need to check up on her. Stephanie had tried to be patient, knowing that the abduction had been terrifying for an already nervous mother. “I’ll catch up in a few minutes after I reassure her I’m still in one piece.”

  “Of course.” Danny’s hands vanished from her body, giving her space to handle the situation. “I’ve got a few people to thank for coming. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

  Watching him walk away, her chest tightened. Already, she was coming to care about him too much. What would it be like when he sailed off into the sunset on the USS Brady until well into next year?

  She tugged her phone out of her purse and stepped around the dance floor back onto the lawn of the Murphy home. Seeking out a quiet corner by the boathouse, she ducked away from the ring of white lights that outlined the party space. It was dark over here, which gave her a little case of the heebie-jeebies, but she kept her eyes trained on the party as she punched in her mother’s number.

  “Stephanie!” Her mother answered the phone in a panicked squawk. “Where are you?”

  “Hello, Mom.” She kept her voice calm. Reasonable. She always hoped to transfer that tranquility to her mother, but it had yet to work in twenty-some years of trying. “I’m with my friend Danny, remember? I’m fine.”

  “I’m so glad you’re not alone,” she blustered. “Our publisher forwarded me some of your fan emails by mistake.”

  “Excuse me?” Stephanie’s gut churned.

  She backed up so that her spine was against the boathouse, bracing herself. Her mother’s publisher had been the same company to buy Stephanie’s memoir of her captivity and time in Iraq, but Stephanie had had little to do with the firm after her book had been so controversial. Besides, she had no intention of ever writing another.

  “It must be a glitch in the system that they forwarded the files to my account instead of yours.” Whitney Rosen paused and Stephanie could picture her pacing the floor of her bedroom overlooking Park Avenue in New York City. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have even read the emails if you’d answered my calls, but I started to worry something had happened to you and I thought I would check the fan mail in case there was anything threatening, and...little did I know how threatening it would be. I had no idea you attracted so many crazy people.”

  Oh, God. Stephanie didn’t waste time wishing she’d just returned her mother’s calls because her mom would have opened that file from the publisher either way.

  Still, the churning in her gut she felt turned to chilly fear even as she reminded herself that her mother frequently overdramatized things. She knew that her book had been controversial for coming down on the side of peace and understanding between cultures during wartime. She hadn’t been advocating antiwar sentiments. She’d just thought some more dialogue would help the war efforts come to an end sooner. “I have an agency that vets the letters and email I receive, remember?”

  “I know, but you never said that you’ve been threatened.” Her mother’s voice went up an octave. “One of these emails includes your photograph with a target superimposed on it. We need to contact the police.”

  Stephanie drew Danny’s jacket tighter around her shoulders as she realized she was shaking. Hard.

  “Mom, please calm down.” If only for my sake. “Forward the letters to me and I’ll pass them along to the agency that reviews them.”

  “These could be your kidnappers hunting you down,” her mother reminded her, her words edged with dread. “Do you know how easy it is to find an address for anyone in this country?”

  “My kidnappers are not looking for me.” Stephanie took deep breaths. She’d been in counseling—both for dealing with her mom and for dealing with her captivity. So she knew that getting wound up before she knew the facts was counterproductive.

  Still, she’d never fully recovered from that fear of the dark after having a bag over her head for hours. Standing on the edges of the party right now didn’t help the rising anxiety, either. But she sure hadn’t expected this from her mother’s frantic need to get in touch with her.

  “You don’t know that,” her mom snapped. “You need to talk to the Murphy family about this. They have the kind of resources that could protect you—”

  “No.” Frustration nudged away some of the fear. “I have been dealing with the letters for years. I’m not suddenly helpless just because I’m seeing Danny.”

  She heard the bite to her words, knowing she only reacted strongly because it would be far too tempting to run to the shelter of Danny’s arms. But that wasn’t happening. She didn’t need to be rescued anymore.

  Strained silence lingered and Stephanie took the moment to walk back toward the lights of Danny’s parents’ home. Back toward the sound of laughter and music. A bonfire on the edge of the festivities lit up more of the night, drawing Stephanie like a beacon.

  “Will you at least pick up your phone when I ring through next time?” her mother asked, the words stilted with wounded feelings.

  Guilt niggled even as Stephanie knew she needed to stand strong.

  “I’m at a party for Danny’s homecoming, but I will call you in the morning, okay?” She tried a gentler tone, her gaze sweeping the grounds for any sign of Danny.

  Stephanie told herself she would not collapse into his arms or pour out a bunch of unjustified worries to him when she saw him. She just wanted to feel that heat between them, certain it would burn away the icy cold in her belly.

  “Very well.” The clipped words barely hid Mom’s anger. “But if you don’t contact the police by morning, I will.”

  The call disconnected, adding more guilt to the mixed cocktail of emotions swirling through her.

  “There you are.” Danny emerged from the shadows, making her jump. “Are you okay?”

  I’m fine. She wanted to say it. Wanted to issue a sexy invitation that would make them forget everything but sizzling attraction.

  But what if someone truly wanted to find her? Hurt her? Worse, what if someone hurt Danny in the process?

  She was shaking her head before she made a conscious decision to confide in him. Damn it. Damn it.

  “What is it?” His arm was around her, steering her away from the party toward the house. “Is everything all right at home?”

  “No.” Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, hating the past for coming back to haunt her over and over and over. “Everything is not okay.”

  12

  AN HOUR LATER, back in the privacy of the gatehouse, Danny thought he had most of the story straight. Som
e color had returned to Stephanie’s cheeks as she sat on a high stool pulled up to the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He’d made her hot tea to warm her up since she’d been icy cold when he’d found her on the outskirts of the party.

  And it was no wonder she’d been chilled.

  She received hate mail with regularity, her book apparently targeted by some fringe radical group in the States that suggested her plea for peace was anti-American. She’d pulled up her email on his laptop and shown him a sample of the letters her publishing company had received in the past three months, along with the file forwarded from her mother. What he didn’t understand was this group that supposedly vetted her “fan” mail.

  He would tread carefully, though, knowing she was upset with her mother’s interference. It was all he could do not to call a private protection agency right now to ensure no one came near her. Sure, he could fill that role for her for a couple of weeks. But what about when he left?

  “I’m surprised the publishing company doesn’t send the mail straight to the agency you hired to screen the reader responses.” He’d love to know what qualified this group to look out for her safety. The agency sounded more like a PR firm than anything.

  “They’re supposed to,” she said wearily, unfastening the clip from her hair so the silken mass fell forward over her shoulders. “It’s a low-priority task, though, and they’ve routinely sent the emails directly to me. Who knows why they ended up in my mother’s in-box this time? Someone probably saw the same last name and just attached my mail to hers since we write for the same publisher.”

  “In the past, what has the vetting agency done about threatening notes you’ve received?” He added more hot water to her tea and then joined her at the breakfast bar.

  “They send anything overt to the local authorities.” She took off a heavy ring and set it on the counter near the salt and pepper shakers.