Pillow Chase

There was a soft quality to his voice, a sound that implied he’d be equally insane for her. Not so long ago that admission would have melted her heart, but now…now it reminded her she hadn’t been living up to her end of the deal.

“I guess I should get this over with.” She had better things to expend her energy on—like figuring out how to keep her worries out of the bedroom for the rest of their vacation.

“I’ll come with you,” Troy said.

She turned to find him leaving the table. “I appreciate it, but finish your lunch. I won’t be long.”

“I’ve been waiting four months to be with you. I don’t want to waste more time if I can help it.”

“I like when we’re together.”

“Me, too, Mrs. Knight. Me, too.”

And as she watched him cross the room to return his plate to the kitchen, she saw the determination in his long strides, knew he wanted to be with her because he recognized that she dreaded this visit.

That was Troy, solid, there. Even when they were physically apart, he tried to stay involved and supportive. She appreciated the effort. But lately that closeness let him sense she was off, despite her best efforts to reassure him.

She simply had to pull herself together so she could get on with the important things in life…like enjoying together time with her husband on a fantasy vacation that most couples only dreamed of.

Making her way into the bedroom, Miranda refreshed her makeup, and Troy soon followed, heading into the bathroom with the promise, “I’ll take a fast shower.”

“Fine.” She glanced into the mirror where she found a stranger staring back.

Who was this woman who had let worry chase away another orgasm?

Miranda didn’t know.

She’d always been a capable, accomplished woman who had no trouble achieving what she put her mind to. Public speaking. Spearheading a variety of volunteer fund-raisers. Graduating from college cum laude. Whenever she set a goal, she learned the skills necessary to accomplish the job then did it. No problem.

She’d fallen in love, gotten married and planned to be the perfect wife. She’d intended to accompany Troy on his tours, support his career and keep the home fires burning while he was on duty.

She’d understood the responsibilities involved, knew what it would take to support a man with a power career, and was willing to do the job. She’d learned from the best—her mother handled the demanding role of politician’s wife with grace and ease. Miranda had felt eager and ready for her future as Troy’s wife.

It had never occurred to her that she couldn’t transition her skills into military life.

But that’s exactly what was happening.

Dropping the lipstick into her purse, she glanced down at the dresser where Troy’s wallet sat neatly beside his watch and the suite’s keycard. His organizational skills were a side effect of his upbringing, a tangible reminder of how different he was from any man she’d ever known.

If Miranda didn’t love him so much, she might not feel so badly right now. But she did love him enough that she desperately needed to figure out how to deal with the situation before he found out life was exploding in her face back home.

The memory of her latest failure hit her fast and hard, and humiliation came as white-hot and excruciating as it had during her latest attempt to make a place for herself with the wives of Troy’s peers. Closing her eyes, Miranda couldn’t face herself in the mirror when she remembered taking her turn as hostess for their monthly tea.

I want the event to be special, she’d told the local florist. So let’s go with a springtime theme to celebrate April showers and May flowers.

She remembered standing in the doorway of the clubhouse to survey the effect, found herself pleased with the result. Tables had been decorated with colorful floral arrangements, sparkling glassware and a variety of goodies catered by a well-known teahouse she’d heard many of the women rave over.

She wanted to make a good impression—the officers’ wives were a tight network on this naval base, a support system through the steady rounds of “hails and farewells,” bosses’ nights and unaccompanied tours. Through them, she could learn the social dos and don’ts to help further Troy’s career.

For some reason, her infiltration into their ranks hadn’t been smooth, and she’d wanted this tea to bridge the distance. She remembered smiling while gazing around that beautifully decorated room.

And she’d still been smiling when she’d donated every last finger sandwich to a local ministry because none of her guests had shown up. Not one. The women had made their point that day—they wouldn’t accept her no matter what she did to fit in.

Opening her eyes, Miranda forced herself to meet her reflection, to acknowledge that this hadn’t been her first failure, though it definitely qualified as her most spectacular. She’d dubbed those women the witchy wives that day, and refused, absolutely refused, to let them make her life miserable. But despite that vow, she’d begun dreading the orders that took Troy away. When he left, she felt stranded across the country from friends and family.

And from Troy.

Even worse was that she couldn’t discuss the problem with Troy. Wouldn’t discuss it. Early in their marriage he’d made it clear he expected her to handle what came up while he was gone, trusted her to deal with their domestic life.

Funny, but she remembered that debacle almost as clearly as hosting the officers’ wives tea.

Things had seemed pretty simple and straightforward at the time. Her car had needed some expensive repairs, and the dealer had recommended trading it in on a newer model rather than pouring money into hers. She agreed but had wanted Troy’s input before signing off on a three-year loan.

She’d tried to contact him for several days via their usual lines of communications, but when she didn’t hear back from him, she’d assumed he was out of touch on a mission. Since the situation hadn’t been an emergency, she’d done the next best thing and sent him a telegram.

What she hadn’t realized was that her telegram would be handled by a lot of people on its way to Troy.

Everyone from the telegram messenger and the chaplain to his unit commander and team members had learned the details of her transportation situation. Troy’s response had been equally simple and straightforward—deal with it.

She’d never meant to embarrass him and had learned a valuable lesson. Her husband was in special operations and didn’t need to be distracted with minutiae. Distractions risked a lot more than a disgruntled client or a lost account. Troy’s life hung in the balance of his job performance, along with the lives of his teammates and their mission objectives.

If Troy had any idea how badly the situation had degenerated at home, he’d be worrying about her while trying to work. She refused to let that happen. Not for a bunch of witchy women who shouldn’t be bothering her.

But they were. For some reason their rejection had made her doubt herself. She should be above their petty rudeness, but she’d started questioning whether she was cut out for the military, if her upbringing and family name had paved her way by making life too easy.

She’d been a big fish in the little pond of Niagara Falls. She’d never considered the obstacles she might encounter as a little fish in a big pond. But she was facing them now.

And had vowed to overcome them.

She would keep the home fires burning so Troy could look forward to returning home to a wife who couldn’t wait for him to get there. She would keep her worries out of their bed while on this fantasy vacation.

She just wished the job didn’t feel quite so big.

3

MIRANDA WOULD SAY one thing—Laura Granger had created a fantasy with her Wedding Wing. As she and Troy headed toward the elevator to take them down to the third floor, she couldn’t help but marvel at the grandeur of this new addition.

She would never have guessed the oddball girl who’d been a constant irritation during school would be responsible for breathing life back into this old hotel.

As Laura had always been the one lurking in the shadows, Miranda couldn’t help but think how life had reversed their positions. Laura stood in the spotlight of her grand opening, while Miranda had come on this vacation to escape.

Slipping her fingers through Troy’s, she took comfort in his touch and tried to shake this contemplative mood.

She was thinking again.

As always, Troy proved a great distraction. When the elevator deposited them on the third floor, he slipped his arm around her and pulled her close for a quick kiss before directing her to the room where the photojournalist had set up headquarters during the grand opening.

Miranda couldn’t imagine what the man had cooked up with her sister and Laura Granger. Tyler Tripp might be acclaimed for his work, but he was also thoroughly disreputable looking, exactly the sort of more-tattoos-than-college-credits type of man her sister typically got involved with. Given their shared interest in journalism, Miranda couldn’t believe Victoria had hooked up with ultraprofessional Adam Grant instead.