Chapter One
Ryan Itani set down the magazine that he hadn’t really been reading and glanced around the waiting room of the veterinarian’s office. He wondered for the hundredth time if he shouldn’t have tried to call Faith Holmes before surprising her while she was at work. If he were honest with himself, he’d have to admit he was worried that if he had called, she would have made an excuse not to see him.
Not that he blamed her. After what had happened last Christmas Eve, he technically couldn’t hold it against Faith if she avoided him like the plague for the rest of her life. It would have been one thing if he’d stuck to his original mission that night three months ago—drive the twenty miles from Harbor Town to Faith’s country house and pay his respects to his friend Jesse’s widow. He’d been on three tours of duty with Jesse, both of them having served as pilots in the Air Force 28th Fighter Wing. He’d always respected Jesse’s wife, Faith, always liked her openness and kind heart, appreciated her funny, warm letters to Jesse while they’d both been stationed in Afghanistan.
If he’d also thought Faith was one of the most stunning women he’d ever met, and that Jesse didn’t deserve her, given his tendency for womanizing and infidelity, Ryan had kept that to himself.
Or at least he had until Christmas Eve.
Behind a partition, a dog barked loudly and a woman let out a shriek of alarm, bringing Ryan’s straying thoughts back to the present moment. Another dog joined in the fracas. He heard a calm but authoritative woman’s voice and went still. Faith had somehow passed him in the partitioned-off area of the waiting room where he sat. There must be another door leading from the exam rooms to the waiting area.
“Please put Knuckles’s leash in the shortest, locked position, Mrs. Biddle.” Faith’s voice floated above the two dogs’ loud barking. “You really shouldn’t bring Sheba into the office without her container, Mr. Tanner. You can’t blame Ivy and Knuckles for getting excited, seeing a cat unprotected like that. Jane, can you show Mr. Tanner and Sheba back to the examination room right away?”
“Sheba hates that container,” a man grumbled. “Sheba, come back—”
“Wait, Knuckles! Oh, dear!” a woman moaned.
Ryan heard a sound like omff and sprung up from his chair. Rushing around the partition wall, he saw a gray, short-haired cat zooming across the room toward him. He bent and scooped it up into his arms without thinking before it had a chance to tear behind the receptionist’s desk. When he straightened, he saw Faith in profile wearing a white lab coat, a skirt and pumps, her long, curling, dark hair rippling around her shoulders as she tried to restrain a scrambling Dalmatian puppy.
“Oh, no, Faith!” a short, blond-haired woman cried as she raced around the receptionist’s desk. “Put him down. You shouldn’t be holding a big dog like that in your condition.”
“It’s okay, I’m fine,” Faith managed to get out as she soothed the squirming puppy.
“Here, I have the leash. Stupid of me, I somehow disconnected him when I was trying to restrain him by the collar,” a frazzled-sounding, gray-haired woman in her fifties said as she grabbed Knuckles’s collar. She reaffixed the leash, and Faith bent to deposit Knuckles on the floor.
Someone tapped on his forearm and Ryan pulled his glued gaze off the vision of Faith. What had the receptionist meant when she’d said in your condition? Was Faith ill? he wondered anxiously. He handed Sheba-the-cat to a husky black man in his twenties, nodding once distractedly when the man offered his thanks.
Faith was giving the gray-haired woman a weary smile. “Just remember—shortest, locked position for the leash for future office visits, Mrs. Biddle.” She touched her belly as if to reassure herself.
It was a timeless gesture, and one Ryan immediately recognized.
Lightening-quick reflexes were an absolute must for a fighter pilot, and Ryan was known for being one of the fastest responders. In that moment, however, he uncharacteristically froze. An iron hand seemed to have clutched at his lungs, making breathing impossible. A thousand images and memories swept past his awareness as if he were a drowning man. One seemed to linger on the screen of his mind’s eye: Faith answering the front door on Christmas Eve, her long, curling hair spilling around the snowy white robe she wore, her smile radiant, her large green eyes shining with emotion.
Ryan, I’m so happy you came.
Jesse would have wanted me to look in on you, make sure you were safe and sound.
He’d done more than just make sure Jesse’s widow was safe and sound, though. A hell of a lot more.
Faith looked around and saw him standing in the waiting room. The stretched seconds collapsed.
“Ryan,” she exclaimed in a shocked tone. The receptionist and all the patrons in the waiting room turned to gape at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I flew in for business,” he said shortly, referring to the new charter airline business he’d begun after leaving the Air Force last December. His gaze flickered downward over Faith’s belly before he met her stare again. He’d forgotten how vividly green her eyes were.
“I think we’d better talk,” he said.
She bit at her lower lip anxiously and took a step toward him. All the color had left her cheeks.
“Yes. I think we’d better.”
* * *
Faith took off her lab coat and hung it on the hook behind the door of her private office. She cast a nervous glance at herself in the mirror mounted on the wall.
She couldn’t believe Ryan was here. And he knew. Somehow he’d guessed about the baby. She’d seen the stunned realization in his dark eyes as they’d stood there in the waiting room.
She tried to smooth her waving, curling tresses—hopeless cause. She sufficed by pulling the mass up onto her head and clipping it in place. It was probably better to look a little more...professional for this meeting anyway, she told herself as she pulled a few coiling strands down to frame her face.
Ridiculous, the idea of being professional. Her relationship with Ryan might be described as “nearly nonexistent” or perhaps as “frien
dly acquaintances” or perhaps “odd” but hardly “professional.” Not after Christmas Eve. Seeing him standing there, so tall, so commanding, so intense—it’d brought it all back. How he must be regretting that impulsive, inexplicable moment of blazing lust now.
Afterward he’d suggested they’d acted out of the emotional turmoil of their shared remembrance of Jesse’s death in a chopper accident a year before. He’d also worried that their impulsive tryst had ruined the chances of him being there for her. As a friend.