Her Only Chance

“I just don’t see any help for it, Lieutenant Commander,” General Halter was saying. “Your medical condition requires me to assign you thirty days R and R while we make a further review of the incident. While you’re on the mend, you’re free to come and go as you please. But I’d like you to stay in Tampa and make yourself available to the investigators.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” No one had to tell Kell what his commanding officer meant by thirty days of rest and relaxation. He had, in essence, just been relieved of his command, wounded or not. Dressed in his battle fatigues in front of General Halter’s desk in the Special Operations Command headquarters building on MacDill Air Force Base, Kell knew he’d messed up. He’d been in charge of a mission in Eastern Europe that had gone sour.

It was the worst possible outcome. They’d been detected, had a face-to-face with the opposition, and in the ensuing fight, some of his men had suffered injuries. In fact, Jeff Camden, his second-in-command and Kell’s best friend, was still in the hospital in Frankfurt, Germany. Guilt ate at Kell. Still, he refused to blame the bad intelligence he’d received regarding their target. He had no one but him to blame. That was the way it worked. He knew the risks and had always accepted them. With rank came responsibility. He’d danced to the music, and now it was time to pay the piper. Hopefully, the price would not be his career. That loss of honor would be unthinkable.

“At ease, Commander. This isn’t an inquisition.”

“Yes, sir.” No less tense, Kell did as ordered. He stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze riveted to a point on the opposite wall.

“Look, Kell, why don’t you sit down and let’s talk, man to man?”

Kell blinked at the general’s familiar use of his name. He cut his gaze over to the tall, lanky man, who suddenly appeared to look a little haggard. “Yes, sir. After you, sir.”

The general nodded and sat down, gesturing to the upholstered leather chair on the other side of the desk.

With measured precision and a few sharp moves worthy of a military parade…as if to show the general that the sutured and bandaged cut on his thigh didn’t bother him…Kell sat, holding his Special Ops beret in his hand while he awaited the general’s next words. He tried to convince himself that his heart wasn’t about to thump out of his chest.

The general sat forward, resting his elbows atop his desk and tenting his fingers together. “All right, here’s the thing. How old are you?”

Startled, Kell almost dropped his precise military bearing. “I’m thirty-two, sir.”

“Thirty-two. And you’re a lieutenant commander. I’ve always believed that only in our profession and in professional athletics is thirty-two getting up there in age. Most of our field officers are still in their twenties.”

Kell knew instantly where this was going. A desk job. His chest tightened around his heart, which felt as if it were expanding. “Begging the general’s pardon, sir, but I’m as fit as any man in my—”

“Yes, you are, even despite your injury. And you’re a fine commander. Your men are extremely loyal to you, and your superiors sing your praises, me among them. You’re also a highly decorated officer with more successful missions under your belt than anyone else. No one doubts your dedication, son.”

Until this last mission. It was unspoken between them. As the general talked, Kell’s jaw got tighter and tighter.

“It’s time for a change, Kell. I know how you feel about a desk job. But you have to admit this isn’t any ordinary office. You know what SOCOM is—a mixed-branch military nerve center where the strategy is done for the four services, where the missions originate. And it’s a tremendous responsibility. I feel we need someone like you in-house. No one knows Special Ops like you. And, of course, there’s a promotion in this.”

Kell sat rigid. The only thing worse would be to get assigned to the Pentagon—it was considered a graveyard for commanders. However, the one-foot-in-the-grave assignment was the desk job. Which he’d just been handed. A dead end. The last of the line. Kicked off the team for a lack of performance. Total loss of respect, of self-esteem. And there wasn’t one damn thing he could do about it, except say, “Thank you, sir. I’m honored, sir.”

“Like hell you are, Commander. I wasn’t when I got these stars—” he pointed to the insignia of his rank on his shoulders “—and this corner office. I thought my military life was over, that I was washed up. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And neither can you. This isn’t punishment, Kell. But it will seem like it when you’re sitting here safely, knowing you’re putting young men out in the field in jeopardy. You’re going to fret like you’re their daddy. And you’ll find you’re extremely careful of every detail so none of them gets hurt. That’s what I want from you. In one way, having you here is a way of making sure that what happened to you and your men will never happen again.”

Kell met his commanding officer’s steel-gray eyes. The general was referring to the intelligence officer who’d been relieved of command after Kell’s latest mission had failed. But Kell couldn’t help thinking that the general also meant that if Kell was sitting here at a desk, he couldn’t lead any other men into a trap. He swallowed, knowing the general was awaiting some comment from him. He stood up, coming again to attention. General Halter followed suit. Kell met the older man’s gaze. “Thank you, sir. Will that be all, sir?”

The general looked Kell up and down, narrowing his eyes assessingly. “You’re a fine man and a fine officer, Commander Chance. It’s just time for a change, for a move up the chain of command. It will be an honor to have you in the building and to work with you directly.”

Like the general had said—it sure as hell didn’t feel like an honor. Still, Kell put his beret back on, carefully adjusting it to the perfect angle. Then he saluted the general. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to the opportunity to serve you and my country in my new capacity.”

The general nodded and returned Kell’s salute.

Guilt ate at Kell. He’d gone too far one time too many. He’d asked too much from his men, and they’d almost paid the price with their lives—and all at his command. Maybe the general was right. Maybe he was getting too old for this. Maybe it was time to quit gambling, something his parents had never learned. Maybe it was time for a desk, time for change. No more risks.

Like hell it was. A bit of the fire in Kell’s belly went out. Who was he kidding? He didn’t believe any of that. He was Kellan Chance. A warrior. It was too bad his mother and father had just left after coming to see about him. He could have asked them what the Gaelic term for desk jockey was. Thank God they’d returned to New Orleans before he’d been put out to pasture. That wasn’t something he wanted them to know right off. But he’d better get used to the idea, he told himself. Because apparently he was going to have to live it.

He was also going to have to find a way to avoid losing face with his risk-taking brothers. Or himself.

THREE DAYS and as many doctoral-degree celebrations later, Jamie sat with Donna in the sun-splashed Tampa International Airport. True to Winslow form, the three of them—Jamie, her sister and their mother—had arrived chronically early for the flight that would take Jamie’s family back to New Orleans. So, with time to kill, their mother had wandered into a glass-fronted bookstore in search of the latest thriller to read during the flight.

That left Jamie and Donna to chat as they camped out with the carry-on luggage at one of the upscale coffee bars in the terminal. But even with all the traffic around them, all heads turned their way when Donna squealed, “You have got to be kidding—”

“Shh.” Jamie immediately leaned across the table. “Mom and half of Tampa will hear you.”

Donna’s blue eyes danced with delicious intrigue as she, too, leaned forward, speaking in a lowered voice. “Mom’s over there in that bookstore. She can’t hear us.”

“Ha. The woman can hear through walls. We’re talking about Mom here, Donna.” Jamie sipped the last of her coffee.

“Like heck we are. We’re talking about Kellan Chance. I was right, wasn’t I? You’re going to have to confront him.” Triumphant, Donna sat back. “Damn. I’m good.”

Jamie wondered what her sister would say once she could finally tell her about the book deal. “Yes, you are. But I knew it would all be about Kell, if you’ll remember.”

“Yes, you knew.” Donna turned serious. “But I’m worried about you, little sister. You walked away from that man and a church full of people on your wedding day eight years ago. And then you broke up with him again last year. And now these psycho professors of yours want you to see him again?” Donna sipped her coffee and eyed Jamie over the cup’s rim. “Have they lost their collective minds, playing Cupid like this? Kell is not going to be amused.”

“They’re not playing Cupid. They say I need closure. Can’t you just hear me telling someone as practical-minded as Kellan Chance that we need closure? He’s going to think I’m crazy.”

“Well, add my name to that list,” Donna said. “I’ve thought you were nuts ever since you ditched him right out of college.”

Jamie let out a guilty breath. “Will you quit saying I ditched him? I didn’t ditch him. I had…issues.”

“Issues? Such as…?”

“It’s not obvious? The way he plays with life and limb, Donna. I mean, come on, he’s thirty-two now. When do these Chance boys get over it?”

As if suddenly too warm, Donna fanned herself with her hand and sent her sister an arch expression. “They’re hardly boys, honey. Whew. Kell and his brothers are men to the nth degree. Wow.” Then she popped forward in her seat. “Wait a minute. You knew that Kell hadn’t changed a couple of years ago when y’all got back together. Shoot, we expected you two to finally get married then. But you took off on him again. So, what’s really going on here, Jamie? There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Jamie exhaled and toyed with her now empty paper cup. There was something going on. She just wished she knew what it was. It wasn’t a commitment thing. She’d committed to many things…although none of them had been men.

“Sweetie? Out loud.”

Jamie blinked and stared at her sister. “Oh. Sorry.” Suddenly she wished she and Donna lived a little closer. There was no one better to confide in. Donna was a counselor herself, a committed wife to Wayne and a wonderful mother to Jamie’s niece and nephew, Cindy and Bret. In other words, she was stable. But Donna was also someone who would be totally on Jamie’s side, someone who had the same parents, the same experiences, and who could tell her how to get past this closure/commitment hang-up of hers.

Feeling a rush of warmth for her sister, Jamie leaned forward, fully prepared to spill everything that was going on with her—including the book deal. Until she glanced over her sister’s shoulder. Then Jamie sat up stiffly, her mouth open, her eyes wide.

Donna pivoted in her seat and a starkly silent moment passed. Then, Donna, still looking over her shoulder, intoned, “Oh…my…God.” She jerked back around to face Jamie. “Is that who I think it is with Mother?”

Jamie nodded and finally remembered to breathe. Kellan Chance was walking their way. He was almost upon them…with her mother in tow. And that wasn’t all. Latched on to his arm was a stunningly beautiful woman who smiled warmly up at him.

KELL GLANCED DOWN at Melanie, who clung tiredly to his arm. Her flight from Germany, not to mention the long hours she’d spent at her husband’s bedside, had to have been exhausting, but still she smiled up at him. Kell winked at her and then met Jamie’s gaze as they approached the table where she sat with her sister. Jamie’s expression reeked of uncertainty. For his part, though, Kell could hardly look at her without wanting her. His breath caught. His chest ached. Dammit, he wasn’t the least bit over her. Still, staunchly military in his bearing, despite his civilian clothes, and revealing nothing of his inner turmoil, Kell proceeded with his greetings. “Donna, Jamie,” he said, managing a sincere smile. “It’s good to see you.” His gaze came to rest on Jamie. “You look great.”

Some naked emotion flared in her eyes but was quickly gone, leaving Kell to wonder if he’d really seen it. But if Jamie had nothing to say, Donna wasn’t stuck for words. She got up immediately and came around the table toward him, her slender arms held out. “Kellan Chance, you great big hunk of good-looking man, come here and give me a hug. Excuse me.” That last was meant for Melanie, whom she neatly sidestepped as she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.

Held that way, Kell could only submit with a grin. When Donna finally released him, he stepped back, glanced again at Jamie, who hadn’t moved except to tightly cross her arms and legs. All Kell wanted to do was sit down and memorize very nuance of her. He wanted, needed, to feel the heat from her body, smell the scent of her skin, hear her laugh, listen to her talk. But he couldn’t. He turned to Melanie. “Donna, Jamie, I’d like you to meet Melanie Camden. Melanie, I’ve known Donna and Jamie since I was a kid back in New Orleans.”

“That he has,” Mrs. Winslow chirped, her bright-eyed gaze and forced smile betraying her underlying nervousness. “Isn’t Melanie just the prettiest thing, girls?”

“Lovely,” Donna confirmed, arching a worried look at Jamie.