The Soldier's Twin Surprise

“Well,” he said, as he glanced toward the street and the path on which he’d been running, “I guess I’d better let you get to work.”

He was giving her an out, an excuse to end their conversation. And she really ought to take it, but it still left her a little uneasy, not to mention disappointed. She’d never feel Bullet’s hands caress her again.

No, not Bullet. Captain Masters. She wasn’t even supposed to call him Clay.

“I’ll see you around,” he said.

She supposed that was a given. And their future run-ins were sure to be uncomfortable, but there wasn’t much either of them could do about that now. So she offered him what she hoped was a casual smile. “Take care.”

“Will do.” Then he turned and jogged away, leaving her to stare after him and rue all that might have been if their circumstances had only been different.

* * *

As Clay ran along the side of the road, he had a growing compulsion to look over his shoulder and catch one last glimpse of Rickie, but he forced himself to focus on the path ahead. He’d known that they’d probably see each other again, and sure enough, they had.

He could have ignored her and pretended that they’d never met, but he wouldn’t do that. He might avoid making commitments, but he wasn’t a jerk. He was respectful to his ex-lovers.

And what a lover she’d been. She had a fiery passion that had turned him inside out, and he doubted he’d experience anything like that again. He’d never been one to rate the women he’d dated, but she’d get a gold star.

She looked a lot different this morning than she had the day he’d met her, when she’d been wearing that sexy red bikini. And later that evening, when she’d been naked, lying next to him in bed.

Of course, now that they’d been intimate, he’d find her just as beautiful dressed in battle fatigues and combat boots. He had a feeling that, each time he saw her, he was going to be tempted to do more than greet her and have a friendly little chat.

And that was the problem. In the past, he’d never had any trouble moving on when a fling was coming to an end. He’d always been able to keep his hormones in check. But he wasn’t having an easy time of it now. For some weird reason, he couldn’t seem to shake off his thoughts of Rickie.

There seemed to be something different about her, something that drew him to her and made him want to challenge military protocol when it came to fraternization.

He wouldn’t cross any lines, though, even if he still had a dormant rebellious streak. When he’d been a footloose kid in Texas, it used to flare sky-high. He’d also thrived on the adrenaline rush—much to the chagrin of his mother, who’d been determined to keep him safe.

The poor woman had really flipped out when she learned he’d been accepted for admission at West Point. But what had she expected from a kid who’d grown up idolizing his late father, a decorated war hero who was still held in the highest esteem by everyone back home?

You’d think she would’ve been proud that Clay had decided to become an Army officer, but she’d cried for days, sure he’d be sent off to war and would die in battle, like his father had.

He’d told her that he understood her worries, but he felt a strong conviction to serve.

“There are lots of ways you can help people. You could be a doctor or a fireman or a teacher.”

“Most mothers would be proud that their kid was accepted at West Point.”

“I am, honey, but why couldn’t you have gone to Texas A&M?” she’d asked. “That way, you would have been close to home. Then, after graduating with some kind of an agriculture degree, you could have helped your granddad and me on the ranch.”

But Clay had never wanted to be a rancher.

Even his wild, fun-loving friends had followed his lead and turned onto a straight and narrow path. Duck was now a champion bronc rider, determined to help the Rocking Chair Rodeo promote a ranch for retired cowboys, as well as Kidville, a nearby group home for kids. And Poncho had become a cop who did his best to keep the town of Wexler safe.