"What?" Following Julia's train of thought rivaled the challenge of flying without radar.
Her hand trailed from his brow over his eyes. "Shut them."
Darkness enveloped him, like flying through an inky night sky by instincts. All other senses heightened, the feel of her velvet dress warm against his hand. The lingering rosy scent clung to her, drifting up to permeate the still office air.
"Zach?"
And sounds. The way she said his name twisted him into knots as tight as the first time she'd whispered it nearly five months ago. "Yeah, Jules?"
"I want you to imagine you're on the plane again coming home from Iraq."
Huh? Where the hell was she going with this? Not that he intended to stop her since she'd quit crying.
Because it seemed important to her, Zach traveled back, through his memories to that day on the plane—the longest ride of his life. He hadn't expected Pam to be the supportive wife of the year, but he'd been pretty damned sure she would be on the runway waiting for him.
She wasn't.
Julia's soft voice slid over the memory. "This time when you land, I'm there waiting for you. We're all there—me, Shelby, Ivy and Patrick. Okay, I know technically the younger two weren't born yet, but I'm the one building this fantasy and I want them there."
The image settled in his mind so damned right his chest tightened.
She linked their fingers. "We're standing with the rest of the families. Ivy's holding a poster she drew for you, and I have a bottle of champagne ready to pour over your head the minute you reach the bottom step. Shelby's pretending to be mad because I made the kids all wear Welcome Home Dad shirts and she vows they're lame. But I know she's kept a picture of you on her dresser the whole time you were gone."
Zach squeezed her hand, knowing that image only stood a chance of ever coming true because of Julia.
"Then you're right there in the middle of us and we're all hugging and laughing and crying a little, too." She brought their clasped hands up to her face and skimmed away fresh dampness with the back of his wrist. "But that's okay because tears are a part of a hero's welcome home. You deserve them for what you've been through."
Those tears soaked into his skin clear to his soul, soothing a raw place he hadn't even known existed. He'd lived through those two weeks of captivity. Survived it. Dealt with it.
But afterward? He'd been too busy working to salvage his marriage to do anything but move forward. Discussing those two weeks with Pam was never an option.
"When we get home, there's a gourmet dinner waiting that I cooked just for you." She tapped his lips. "Shh. Remember it's my fantasy, okay?"
A laugh rumbled, rolling free and joining hers. Leave it to Julia to know he needed to laugh.
He opened his eyes. "Thanks, Jules."
"Not yet." Her hand skimmed over his eyes again. "This is my fantasy, and I'm not done with you."
Her voice shifted from soothing to sultry, upping the temperature by at least twenty degrees.
"Finally, we tuck our children in bed and we're alone." She canted closer, velvety-encased warmth molding to his side. "I'm more than ready to give you the rest of a hero's welcome home, the best part."
His heart rate kicked into mach speed. "The best part?"
"Very best." Her breath caressed his neck. "I kiss you, or maybe you kiss me. Who can tell? We're both so hungry for each other we're stumbling down the hall to our room. I've missed you so damned much. Waiting all through dinner has me ready to jump out of my skin and finally I have you to myself."
The past blended with the present in her words, in her touch.
"I've been scared and confused, but it's okay because you're here and we're going to put everything else aside. We need each other and somehow that's all that matters right now.
We deserve this moment. Just us."
She tugged his tie until it came free. He forced himself to listen when he really wanted to flip her onto her back and plunge into her.
Her fingers walked along his collar, dipping to stroke his neck. "You shut the door, and we can't even make it to the bed. You flatten me against the door, and you feel so good and warm and hard." She grasped his wrist and slid it inside the slit of her dress to rest on her knee. "You touch me and I want to touch you, but I'm not sure I can move because you have me so hot for you I'm shaking."
She urged his hand up her stocking-clad leg until he reached...ah, hell.