The shout spread. "Wolf! Wolf! Wolf!"
In one of the quirky rules of the Dining-Out, no one was allowed to applaud. Spoons banged the table in a rattling din of approval like a medieval banquet of clanging utensils.
Vaulting on to the dais, Zach commanded attention for more reasons than his height and the impressive rows of medals across his chest. He carried that indefinable something within him that inspired the unwavering loyalty echoing from the room full of men and woman he led.
The calls of "Wolf" boomed. Fists pounded the tables along with the clanking silverware, all a part of the formal military Dining-Out custom that traced its roots to antiquity.
Roman legions, Viking warlords, King Arthur's knights—for centuries, warriors thrived on gatherings to celebrate their victories and achievements.
Although Viking warlords had probably done so with a few less lace-paper doilies.
More than just friendship radiated from these people. Julia recognized a deeper sense of belonging that she hadn't witnessed since her childhood.
Zach swiped the microphone from its stand. "Thanks everyone. Thank you." He let loose a piercing whistle into the mike, silencing the shouts. "Thank you. I appreciate all of you coming to our little Valentine's soiree tonight. Just want to say how great it is to have the whole squadron together stateside for a change."
A cheer roared through the room.
Zach absently patted a rhythm on his pants leg until the clamor waned. "It's my duty now to call an end to the official part of this Dining-Out."
Groans rippled like a wave from table to table. Fliers partied almost as hard as they fought.
"Hey, now," Zach groused with a grin. "Some of us have to pay off baby-sitters. But for those of you who want to hang around, I've already written a check for the band to stay on until two.">Until that last call when she'd ended with, I'm ready now.
She'd disconnected before he could answer, and he hadn't called back before takeoff. He needed to see her face to know she meant those words. Things would be complicated enough when they ended the marriage without adding another halted encounter to the mix.
Another divorce.
He stifled a curse.
One day at a time. And tonight, he had plans for his wife.
Zach pulled into the driveway, frowning over the strange car parked behind Julia's. The pizza guy maybe? If so, the pizza joint was paying big these days since the sedan looked new.
Zach sprinted for the steps, no detour to check out his bike. He wanted to see Julia.
Shoving open the door, he called, "Hey, gang, I'm home."
The kitchen gaped empty.
Where were the kids?
Julia stepped into view. "Hello, Zach."
Any other thoughts flew straight out of his head. Holy hell, the woman looked awesome.
Black velvet draped over her all the way to the floor and down long sleeves, in a regal way totally contradicted by the drop-dead-incredible flash of leg showing through the side slit.
Damned if beads of sweat didn't pop out on his forehead.
Her hair fluffed around her face in a mass of blond curls. Already he could imagine those spirals tousled from his hands plunging through while he made love to her.
Zach started toward her. "Jules, you look incredible."
Her stark expression stopped him before he finished his step or sentence. She cut her eyes toward the family room. He followed her gaze through the connecting dining area all the way to the sofa where Ivy sat with...
Her mother.
Anger simmered, roiled, threatened to fire free in a need to lash out before this woman hurt his children again. Her timing couldn't have sucked more, just when his girls finally had some stability.