The Seal's Surrender

One corner of her mouth twitched, but she only nodded. “Chance it is, then.” She studied him for a long minute, then said, “You know, you’ve the look of your father around the eyes. More so than your brother does.”

Chance shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t necessarily want to be reminded that he looked like the man who’d managed to ignore both him and his brother their whole lives. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway? Thank you didn’t seem appropriate somehow. So he ignored the comment entirely.

After all, it wasn’t as if he’d come here looking to find family. He already had his family. Douglas. With the death of their mother, all they had left was each other. And that had always been enough before.

The only reason he was here at all was as a favor to Doug. And if he hadn’t been shot by that sneaky little terrorist on his last mission, he wouldn’t have had to put up with any of the pomp and circumstance surrounding the Connellys. But then, he wouldn’t have been here to ride to Jennifer’s rescue, either, would he?

And that thought returned him to why he’d come to the kitchen in the first place.

“Any chance I could get a glass of water and a box of tissues?” he asked.

Ruby narrowed her eyes thoughtfully as she looked at him. “Feel a crying jag coming on, do you?”

Chance played along. “Yes, ma’am. I’m feeling real emotional.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I can see that.” But without another word, she bustled around the room and came back with just what he’d asked for. As he turned to leave the room, though, her voice stopped him. “You tell Jennifer for me that everything’s going to be all right.”

He looked at her. Shouldn’t be surprised, he thought. He’d already discovered that nothing much went on around here that Ruby didn’t know about. “What?”

“I’ve been with the Connellys for more years than I care to admit. Not much gets past me. I know there’s something wrong.”

Nodding, he told her, “You would have made a good admiral.”

“Phooey,” she said, waving one hand to dismiss him. “Admirals are small stuff. I’d have made a good president.”

“You know something?” he said, giving her a wink, “I believe you.” Then he slipped from the room before she could give him any orders he’d be too afraid not to follow.

“Oh, this is good,” Jennifer told herself aloud as she clutched the balcony railing and stared out at Lake Michigan. “Way to ensure your employment, Jen.” Shaking her head, she blinked back tears that still threatened and solemnly vowed they wouldn’t fall. She’d already screwed up big-time.

What had she been thinking? Crying on the shoulder of the guest of honor at her employer’s party. The one time she indulged in a good old-fashioned pity party, she had to be caught by Mr. Tall, Dark and Dangerous.

“For goodness’ sake,” she grumbled, tightening her grip on the cold iron railing. She lifted her face into the wind sweeping in off the lake and told herself that if she was very lucky, the newest addition to the Connelly family would keep her embarrassing behavior to himself.

Although, for all she knew he was inside now, trying to get Emma to come out and comfort her, readily handing off the crazed secretary to someone else. She could almost imagine him, stalking through the party, heading for the front door as fast as he could. And she couldn’t really blame him, either.

What man wanted to be a human tissue for a weeping woman? Especially one he hardly knew.

Behind her, the glass door slid open, allowing a brief pulse of conversation and piano music onto the balcony, and in an instant, the door closed again, sealing off the intrusion.

She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. She knew who it was. She felt his presence almost as an electrical charge. Her nerve endings hummed and the hairs at the back of her neck stood straight up.

Probably not a good sign.

“Sorry I took so long,” he said and darned if his voice didn’t scrape along those already tense nerves.

Get a grip, Jen. He’s your boss’s stepson. He’s a stranger. He doesn’t give a damn about your problems and there’s nothing between you but an embarrassing crying jag.

So why was her stomach suddenly in knots and her breath coming fast and hard?

Because you’re an idiot, she told herself just before turning to look at him.

Well, that didn’t help any. He was just too darned good-looking, that was the problem. He looked like a poster boy for navy recruiting. Or like one of those navy lawyers on that television show. His uniform shone a bright white against the backdrop of the blue lake and shimmering April sky. The ribbons decorating his chest drew her eye as did the SEAL pin he wore proudly. Then she looked farther up, into his eyes, and saw…concern. And that nearly did her in on the spot.

Darn it.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Oh, dandy,” she told him and sniffed.

He held out the box of tissues and she gratefully snatched one free of the dispenser. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose and still didn’t feel better.

“Here, drink this.” He offered the tall, pale-blue glass he carried.

“What is it?” she asked as she reached for it. “Hemlock?”

“Nothing so deadly,” he said with a half laugh. “Just water.”

She took a drink, letting the liquid soothe her tight throat before trying to talk again. Lifting her gaze to his, she said, “Thank you. For the tissue and the water.”

“Here to serve, ma’am,” he said.

“But I bet you didn’t expect to have to go above and beyond the call at a party.”

He shrugged. “Hey, a party, a terrorist situation—the SEALS can handle it all.”

“Good to know,” she muttered, then, still clutching her glass of water, turned around again to stare out at the lake. She couldn’t keep looking at him. That just wasn’t good for her equilibrium. Way better on her nerves to stare out at a lake the size of an ocean, its choppy waves slapping toward Lake Shore Drive.

“Tell me about your daughter,” he said quietly and Jennifer’s eyes closed briefly on a twinge of something as painful as it was tender.

But she supposed she owed him this, for crying all over him.

“Sarah’s so smart,” she said, and though her voice started out thin and trembling, talking about her pride and joy strengthened it. Shaking her head, she continued, “She started talking before she was a year old and now she’s already arguing with me.” Jennifer chuckled, and the sound grated against her throat. “When she’s a teenager—” when not if, she told herself silently “—we’ll probably lock horns all the time.”

“Probably,” he said agreeably. “God knows Doug and I drove our poor mother nuts when we were teenagers. Of course your Sarah most likely won’t be into drag racing, so that’s one worry you won’t have.”

She flicked him a glance, not at all surprised by his little admission. He was a SEAL, after all. And clearly he loved his job. So it naturally followed that as a kid, he would have sought out dangerous pastimes.

Just like Mike, she thought with an inward acknowledgment of old pain. The two of them would have gotten along great together, no doubt. Then, as if he’d sensed what she was thinking, the man beside her spoke up again.

“Your husband must be just as proud of her as you are,” Chance said.

“My husband’s dead,” she said, tasting the words it had taken her so long to get used to saying.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You didn’t know,” she said softly. “No reason to be sorry. He’s been gone almost two years now.” She sighed heavily. “He never even knew Sarah.”

A long uncomfortable minute passed before he said, “I was raised by a single mother,” he said. “I know how hard it is.”