Another Man's Wife

Over the years she’d collected hundreds of photos and several dozen videos immortalizing her husband’s career in the Air Force. They were packed away in storage. The attractive man on the dance floor was in most of the early pictures.

Scott had said his best buddy in their first squadron was originally from Colorado. She didn’t think she could be mistaken.

Putting down her fork, she leaned toward her brother-in-law. “Brent? Would you do me a favor and dance with me quick?”

“I thought you didn’t want to dance because your stomach was too big,” said Joey, their youngest.

“Joey!” his mother admonished him.

“You mean right this second?” Brent was in the process of devouring his sirloin steak.

“Yes. Otherwise it might be too late.”

Julie gave her a quizzical look.

Brent must have sensed it was important. He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then got up to assist her.

“See that dark-blond man across the floor dancing with the short brunette? I think I know him. Just get me over there so I won’t look too conspicuous.”

His gaze traveled to her prominent mound. “I’ll try,” he said with a grin.

Brent wasn’t the greatest dancer, but all she needed was a prop to get her to her destination.

The closer they drew, the more she became convinced this was the man who’d flown with her husband at the beginning of their careers, and later during their deployment with the NATO forces. He was the man Scott had admired more than any other.

His back was still toward her, but even his formal midnight-blue suit couldn’t disguise his solid build which had been noticeable in all those old pictures.

When she’d met him, he’d reminded her of an Olympic cross-country skier who could do a 50 K race, like the men from Norway or Sweden with their tall, splendid bodies in the peak of physical condition.

She’d never confided those thoughts to Scott who’d stood five eleven and worked out whenever possible to try and emulate his friend’s appearance. There were some things you didn’t tell your husband.

Laurel was in touching distance of him now. She let go of Brent and put a hand on the man’s arm.

“Hawk? It is you, isn’t it?”

Now it was the other couple who’d stopped dancing.

Like a person who’d just been shot, the man dropped his hands. The woman excused herself before he turned slowly in Laurel’s direction.

It had been nine years since they’d met. Time and experience had refined the rugged good looks she remembered, but the cold blue eyes staring back at her weren’t familiar.

One strong hand closed over his other arm at the wrist. Not a word came out of him. The negative tension he emanated was so palpable she felt unsure of herself and searched for Brent’s hand, gripping it for support.

“You probably don’t remember me. It’s been too many years. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” he broke in before she could say her name or introduce him to Brent. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m attending a wedding party.”

As he strode away from her, she could’ve sworn he muttered “Have a nice life.”

Brent was there to cradle her so she wouldn’t fall. She buried her face against his shoulder for a moment to hide her pain, then pulled away in embarrassment.

“W-would you help me to the elevator, please?”

Ruddy color had filled his cheeks. “That bastard! Who the hell does he think he is to treat you like that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just dance me over to the entrance. Don’t say anything to Julie or the kids.”

The next few minutes were a blur as he took her all the way to the room. When he would’ve stayed to comfort her, she had to push him out the door to make him leave.

“I’m so sorry to have dragged you from dinner. Go back upstairs and enjoy the rest of the evening with your family. I’m going to take a shower and get into bed. By the time you’re all back, I’ll be fully recovered.”

“Laurel—”

“I feel like a fool and I don’t want to talk about it. You’re a good man. My sister’s the luckiest woman I know. Now go.”

“All right, but we won’t be long.”

The second he’d gone, she crept over to the bed and lay on her side.

No one had ever treated her as cruelly as Hawk had done a few minutes ago.

She felt as if he’d lifted her from the ground and thrashed her against a wall.

Hot tears gushed from her eyes. It had been months since she’d cried like this.

What did Scott or I ever do to you, Hawk?

What?

RICK WALKED into the house ahead of Nate. He flipped on the living room lights, and they stared at each other. “It’s just you and me.”

Nate tugged at his tie before he threw it and his suit jacket over the back of a chair. He missed. Everything fell in a heap on the floor. Not bothering to pick them up, he unfastened the top button of his shirt. It popped off.

Rick’s eyes followed his out-of-control movements. “Want to start by telling me what you and our father’s new bride were talking about on the dance floor? Or shall we cut to the chase? Explain why you looked so ill after you came back to the table.”

His brother deserved explanations if anyone did, but for the life of him he couldn’t find the words.

Lord. Her eyes.

Could a woman who looked that hurt be guilty of the crime he’d accused her of in his heart?

“I couldn’t eat dinner, either, but I feel like a beer,” Rick said. “Do you want one?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

While his brother went to the kitchen, Nate studied the various family pictures their mother had placed around the room. He had his favorites. Like gravity, they pulled him in for a closer look.

“Do you remember the ad on TV?” Rick handed him an ice-cold lager. “The one that said, ‘it’s eleven o’clock. Parents, do you know where your children are?’”