"Julia?"
She jolted back to the present. "What?"
"First thing tomorrow morning, I'll talk to the base chaplain. Double duty since I have to speak with him about his son and Shelby. With any luck, he can marry us before the weekend."
Julia bristled at his assumption. She wasn't one of his men to be ordered around. "Now wait just—"
"We should be able to get the license right after I meet with Chaplain Murdoch." He pressed a thumb to his forehead. "No wait. I have a meeting after that. Count on one o'clock unless you hear otherwise from me."
He reached for the door, and she slid her legs inside without thinking. The door closed with a snap. When had she lost control?
With a curt nod, he thumped the roof of her car in a farewell salute and spun away on his boot heel.
Julia steamed. Damn his presumptuous orders and that fine butt sauntering up the steps.
She flung open the car door to tell him exactly where he could go tomorrow at one o'clock and what he could do with his proposal when he got there.
Zach stopped.
He paused on the top stoop, his back to her. Shoulders as broad as the doorway dropped, his head falling forward. His hand fisted at his side, raising, halting then thudding against the doorframe. A shudder ripped through him and all those damning curses within Julia dried right up.
"Julia," he said, the single word whispering a need that had sent her running straight to his house barely twenty-four hours ago.
Her mouth closed. She waited. Wanted.
What she wanted, she didn't exactly know, but she stood on the edge of something scary.
Life would change for her based on what she decided in the next few seconds. "What, Zach?"
"I guess I needed you more than I realized."
His soft-spoken words rumbled with more of that need, tipping her right over the edge.
Come one o'clock, Julia knew she would stand beside him in hell itself if he asked.
Chapter 7
Zach leaned to tug open the bottom desk drawer without taking his eyes off the flight data in front of him. Fishing by feel, he sifted through. M&M's. Licorice. Some kind of snack bar, probably granola. All pitched aside. He settled on a pack of Pop-Tarts.
He flipped the pack in his hand. Blueberry frosted pilfered from Ivy's secret stash.
Not much of a lunch, but it would have to do. He had zero time in his schedule for picking up anything during his lunch break except a marriage license.
Married again.
He ripped open the wrapper, not quite ready to go there in his thoughts yet. If he started thinking about Julia, he wouldn't be able to review the files about Lance Sinclair with any objectivity. His role as commander precluded him from being a part of the investigation.
But that didn't stop him from hoping to find evidence to exonerate Lance anyway.
Sounds wafted from the hall. Ringing phones. Jumbled conversations. Muffled boot thuds on carpet. Minor distractions he could work around without shutting the door.
His open-door policy of commanding might chip away minutes from his day, but he believed it saved him far more time in the long run. Maintaining strong communication with his people made for a smoother-run squadron.
Why couldn't an open-door policy at home be as simple?
He bit off a quarter of the pastry. His empty stomach was snacking on itself. Of course, it had been five hours since his 6:00 a.m. breakfast with John's father. A widower, Chaplain Murdoch seemed as overwhelmed by the whole single parent deal as Zach.
Great.