Soldier's Pregnancy Protocol

“Alec,” she said, her voice trembling, “It has to be dangerous for a woman in my condition to—”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll protect your head when we land.”

“I don’t mean—”

“Time to go. Walk with me.” He nudged her forward. Opened the rear cargo door. Braced as the slipstream roared into the plane.

“Alec!”

“We jump on three! One … two …”

“Alec!”

“Three!”

Chapter 3

After their canopy opened with a crisp snap, Erin opened her eyes and drank in the view of sprawling mountains, the terra-cotta sunset, and the bushy evergreens dotting the jagged slopes of the Rockies. Beautiful.

She inhaled the pine-scented air and felt the tension in her muscles seep away. The spectacular view, the exhilarating freedom as they floated on a pillow of air was heady stuff. Despite her fears, every adventure Bradley had taken her on had given her something she treasured. She came away from each challenge energized with the joy of being alive.

The joy of being alive …

In a flash, the thrill of their descent evaporated, replaced with chilling memories of the last trip she’d made with Bradley, the trip that had left her bereft and alone. Erin tensed every muscle and turned her attention from the sunset to their rapid approach to terra firma. Rather, toward a stand of lodgepole pines.

“Alec, we’re headed for those trees!” Erin gripped Alec’s arm, digging her fingers into his hard muscles, as he toggled their parachute toward the hillside below. She could barely hear herself over the swoosh of blood in her ears and the adrenaline-charged cadence of her heart.

“We’re fine, sweetcakes.” His voice was irritatingly calm and assured.

When they landed, she was going to deck him for putting her through this.

“Right on target,” he crooned.

“You’re aiming for the trees?”

She felt the vibration of his answering grunt against her back, reverberating in her own chest as if they were one.

“Of course not. I’m gonna set us down in that clearing to the left. When we land, bend your knees—”

“And roll. I know. I’ve done this before.” But when she’d parachuted with Bradley, she hadn’t had a throbbing knot on her head or memories of her husband’s death replaying in her mind like a film clip looped to repeat ad nauseam.

“You’ve been skydiving before?” Alec sounded truly shocked.

“A couple times. With Bradley.”

They glided over the treetops, and she heard Alec’s smug hum of satisfaction, imagined the I-told-you-so gleam in his eyes. As they sailed smoothly to earth, Erin readied herself for landing as Bradley had taught her. Alec wrapped his arm around the top of her head and held it securely against him, protecting her head from further injury as he’d promised he would.

Her feet met the rocky ground with a jarring thud, and her knees buckled. She tried to roll as Alec had instructed, but he lunged the opposite direction. She was hauled with him in a tumbling heap, falling awkwardly on top of him, butt first.

Alec groaned. “I told you to roll!”

“I tried to, but you went the other way! Next time, be more specific about direction.”

He snorted. “Roger that, sweetcakes.”

She heard the click of metal, and the pressure of the straps restraining her loosened. With a firm shove, Alec scooted her off him and sat up. Erin crawled to her hands and knees and stayed there while she fought for control over her ragged breathing and scampering nerves.

Alec cupped her chin in his hand and brought her head up. “Look at me.”

She did, jolting again when her eyes connected with the stunning color and intensity of his. The warmth of his hand on her chin and steadiness of his gaze made her pulse stagger for reasons that had nothing to do with their perilous jump from the airplane.

“Pupils are still normal and even,” he said matter-of-factly.

A twinge of disappointment plucked her. The intent of his touch, his level look was clinical, not comforting. Yet he didn’t release her chin. “You all right?”

“I’ll live.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. The closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen cross his face. “See. That wasn’t so bad.”

She scoffed.

His thumb stroked her cheek, and ribbons of warm sensation streaked from the spot he caressed to pool in her core.

“I know you were scared, but you did great. Good job, sweetcakes.”

Erin sighed and tugged her chin from his grasp. “Stop calling me that. My name is Erin, not sweetcakes.”

His expression hardening, Alec squared his shoulders and started unfastening the parachute straps crisscrossing his chest.

“Roger that.” His tone was as biting as the rocks cutting into her knees.

She tugged at her own harness, wondering where the chastisement about his moniker for her came from. She’d never detected any condescension when he used the name, and she could think of plenty of things worse than sweetcakes he could call her. Hormones, she supposed. She’d been emotional and moody a lot lately.

“Who’s Bradley?”

Erin snapped her head up. “What?”

“You said you’d parachuted before with Bradley. Is he your brother?”

“I’m an only child. Bradley was my husband.”

Alec hesitated before tossing aside his parachute harness. He lifted one black eyebrow. “Was?”

The usual twist of grief squeezed her chest. “He … died two years ago.”

The grim slash of Alec’s mouth softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”