Five months later . . . .

Claire saw the FOR SALE sign by the curb just before turning into the driveway. She braked and reached for the slip of paper with his address, checking to make sure she was in the right place before driving past the open gate. "This is it," she breathed, staring wide-eyed at the mansion in the distance. Wow. Following the long driveway, she passed a number of cars parked along its side and wondered if they were having an open house.

After lucking out and finding a spot at the top, she stepped out of the car, a loaner from the Long Beach naval base, and glanced down at the United States Navy emblem on the door. "Very discreet," she muttered as she attempted to straighten some of the driving wrinkles out of her sleeveless wrap dress.

She was grateful to be in the civilian clothes, one of only two dresses she owned. The red with white polka-dot material was soft, flowing, and tied tight at the hip, showing off her curves for a change. It was a nice length too—not too short, but not matronly either—and the V-neck gave a teasing hint of cleavage while still maintaining a well-pressed appearance.

The real guilty pleasure, however, came from the Louboutins she had dug out of storage. They gave her legs some sexy definition, and so they should, given the six hundred dollars they had cost. Since the day she had started working, she put ten dollars a week into a shoe fund. She didn't shop for them often, but when she did, she always bought the best.

Yes, she was a closet shoe freak.

And she was going to pay for it later—it had been a long time since wearing high heels. But seeing as she rarely had the opportunity to get out of the Navy gear, why not go for it? Leg cramps were a small price to pay for style.

It had nothing to do with seeing him again. Nothing.

She did a quick scan of her surroundings. There was crispness to the October afternoon air, but not a cloud could be seen in the sky. It was the kind of day where those who erred on the side of caution would carry a sweater with them, just in case. Claire had one hanging over her handbag.

A gust of wind caught her hair, sweeping long strands across her face. With a click of her tongue she gathered it all into a thick handful and pulled it over one shoulder to give it a twist, hoping that would contain it. As her eyes drifted over the house, she noticed the two large white canopies next to the garage being puffed taller by the breeze while balloons and streamers floated away from them on ribbon tethers. Something was being celebrated. A birthday? Or . . . maybe a wedding? Ignoring the twinge in her stomach, she headed over there.

Caterers rushed around, putting final touches on the meal that was about to be served. Steam trickled up from the warming trays lining the super-stretch version of a buffet table under the first tent. A giant cake sat at the far end and Claire started toward it, hoping to solve the mystery.

"Behind you," a female voice called.

Claire glanced over her shoulder to see a young woman approaching with a tray full of stacked glasses.

"Sorry," Claire muttered, stepping out of her way.

"It'll be about ten more minutes," the woman informed her as she hustled by.

"Oh . . . I wasn't . . ." Never mind. Leaving them to their work, Claire about-faced and headed for the drone of voices, the stone pathway leading her around the corner and into the backyard. Where she came to an abrupt halt. There had to be at least fifty guests she could see, even more inside the house from the sounds of it. Not the private meeting she'd been hoping for.

Her eyes searched the crowd. His hair was longer, but she recognized him from the back immediately—that was how well she knew him, or perhaps it was just from how many times she had thought about him over the last five months.

Normally, she didn't allow herself ties to anyone she met when deployed. On a base filled with men desperately seeking out anything that reminded them of home, she'd had her share of offers. The attention and flirtations she received she simply chalked up to their loneliness, keeping her all-business demeanor practiced and polished at all times.

With him it had been even more important to keep her distance, given their working relationship. She hadn't been pleased with being forced to take on a non-medical assistant, and having to work around each other in the cramped space of the lab had only exacerbated the situation. But her curtness those first weeks had been unprofessional and unforgiveable. Downright bitchy.

He hadn't deserved that.

Not that it had thrown him off his game. He was a master at flirting, no doubt about that. She'd seen it all before, the abundance of compliments, the easy smiles, the invitations out. She would often catch him watching her from across the room. He would avert his eyes as if caught doing something he shouldn't, only to do it again later.

But there was something different about him.

She could sense a desire that had nothing to do with her physically—an eagerness to learn. He often took it upon himself to research an issue, throwing questions at her that were incisive.

At times too incisive.

At times she had to do her own research to answer them.

His gratitude had been the biggest shocker, though. He would thank her on a regular basis, admiration reflected in those dark eyes.

God, those dark eyes, irises that seemed more brown than hazel but with enough variation in the pigment to make them appear almost amber in certain lighting. They were compelling, distracting, and . . . dead sexy.

Luckily, he didn't have them trained on her now, so she had time to gather her wits. She walked over undetected and stood behind him. He was part of a small group that had gathered together, talking. Dressed casually, his black jeans and dark blue fitted shirt hugged the lines of his body, accentuating his tall, muscular build. She lost focus as she stood there admiring that form, the memory of catching him coming out of the shower still vivid in her mind.

Enough! Remember why you're here. Bruce's sudden departure had left her feeling hurt and disappointed. She had convinced herself that the sadness was due to being let down professionally. Nothing personal.

After Morris's arrest, the base had been abuzz with all kinds of rumors, none of which were ever confirmed. No mention was made of Bruce or his role in bringing Morris to justice. In fact, it was as if he had never even been there. How much of that was due to his "under the radar" status, she hadn't a clue.

The subsequent reveal of Morris's camera in her room had affected her strangely. She hadn't felt violated as she imagined most women would. Instead she felt resentful. Morris would never have to pay for his disgusting behavior—the Marines weren't interested in a case of voyeurism—not that she wanted to be dragged into court to see that sicko anyway. But the real unanswered question that ate away at her was whether Bruce had known about it.

Messages had come in from him once he was stateside, but she had ignored them.

And spent the next five months believing her anger was justified.

Her commanding officer had been the one who'd pulled her aside a week ago and filled in all the blanks on what had really gone down and what the Navy now wanted her to do about it.

She had been reading up on the Chilvati case over the last few days. With the death of Augustus and the incarceration of his son, Gus Jr., all the illegal activities and any remaining loyal henchmen who hadn't been rounded up in the sweep of arrests fizzled out and disappeared. The major witnesses were able to come out of hiding to resume their lives. Bruce's name hadn't been mentioned anywhere of course, but she knew he was one of them.

Figuring out that Colonel Spinelli was in fact Mark Spinelli had been a no brainer after that. He had returned to run the Chilvati companies, along with the two Chilvati daughters. According to her commander, both the FBI and the Marine Corps were supportive, knowing that there was still a lot to be learned by examining the network built up over the years, information that could be used in cracking other large organized crime rings. It didn't hurt that the companies were flourishing under their new direction.

She drew her gaze down Bruce's length one more time, wondering what his reaction would be to seeing her there.

There was only one way to find out. "Major Morgan," she called out.

He turned to her voice. As did the woman standing beside him. "Doc," he drawled, surprise brightening his features.

But he wasn't nearly as surprised as she was.

An infant dressed all in white was wriggling about in his arms, Bruce holding onto him/her gently, skillfully. Her gaze shot to the tall brunette, whose green eyes were full of curiosity.

"I—" Claire's voice went dog-whistle high, sounding more like a squeak. She looked from him to the baby and back to the brunette again.

The baby started to fuss.

Bruce glanced down. "Here, go to Mommy." He placed the baby into the outstretched arms beside him, caressing the infant's forehead after releasing him/her to the mother.

"This is a surprise," he said, turning his attention back to Claire.

"Yes," Claire managed to utter, but she wasn't talking about her visit. Her next thought, ushered in by embarrassment and regret, was about how much time she had taken getting ready that morning. How foolish. She tried to maintain a blank facial expression, to hide the bitter feeling of disappointment.

"My—" The squeak was back. She took a deep breath and focused on talking. "My commanding officer asked me to come see you." She tilted her chin up, the topic of work helping her regain confidence.

"Really?" Bruce looked over her shoulder.

"It's just me here," she said.

"I'm glad." His gaze came back to her and briefly scanned her outfit. "You look very pretty."

Frowning, she tossed an uneasy glance at the mother who was busy soothing the infant in her arms. Right at that moment, Colonel Spinelli walked up and placed his hands on the brunette's shoulders. A smile of utter joy eased onto the woman's face as she leaned back against him.

Of course, Claire thought. She had read about Colonel Spinelli getting married after coming out of protective custody. Her gaze shifted back to Bruce. She'd been jumping to all kinds of conclusions, and he knew it, if the steady smirk were any indication.

"Commander Wilson?" the colonel said.

Bruce suddenly remembered his manners. "Sorry, you remember Mark Spinelli?"

"Colonel, yes," she acknowledged, giving the man a nod.

"Not anymore. Please, it's Mark." He smiled. "Have you met my wife?" With Claire's shake of her head, he did the honors by adding, "This is Captain Spinelli of the LAPD, and our son, Simon Jack Spinelli." Mrs. Spinelli gave her husband a hard nudge with her elbow, but he ignored the warning, his face glowing with pride. "Our daughter Janine is running around here somewhere . . ." He looked around but there was no child in sight.

"Nice to meet you, Captain," Claire said to his wife.

"Sorry, my promotion is recent. He likes to announce it to the world. It's Virginia. It's nice to meet you too, Commander Wilson."

"Please, call me Claire. I'm sorry to be interrupting your party."

"Stay, please, the more the merrier," she said, glancing at Bruce with a hint of a smile.

The other people in their group had wandered off. It was currently only the four of them with the baby.

"Excuse us, we need to . . ." Virginia looked to Mark for help, but he was as clueless as most men would be at that moment, distracted by his son in his wife's arms. "Mark," she said, getting his attention and passing over Simon. Sliding a hand around her husband's bicep, she gently tugged. "We need to go over there." She pointed without purpose, drawing him along with her to give Bruce some privacy.

Claire smiled at Virginia's obvious maneuvering, but it faded away when she noticed Bruce's expression had suddenly cooled.

"You didn't return my calls or emails," he said.

Feeling awkward, she glanced over to the party goers off in the distance. "No, I—"

"You were angry."

Her eyes shot back to his.

"I understand." He sighed. "Did Captain Tremaine at least give you my message?"

Seeing the regret on his face, Claire took a step closer. "Yes," she assured him, recalling how adamant the captain had been about Bruce's reluctance to leave. "And this." She dug in her purse and pulled out the folded photo—the picture Morris had taken while giving her a tour of the base." He said he found it under your cot."

Bruce knew what it was even before taking it from her outstretched hand, his smile slow and stunning. "Thanks"—he opened it up and studied it for a moment—"I was wondering what happened to this." It was refolded with the utmost of care and slipped into the back pocket of his jeans.

She stood silent for a moment, hoping for an explanation . . . only to realize there was none forthcoming.

"They brought me the DVR," she murmured.

Bruce's face turned to stone. "I wanted to kill him when I found out what he was doing."

"They said they were acting under direct orders, that no one else was to look at it, that I had friends in high places. I knew that friend was you."

"I wish I had found it earlier, right at the beginning, to save you from all of that."

So he hadn't known about it the whole time. "I'll get over it." She shrugged. "The naked body is nothing to be ashamed of."

"No . . . definitely not."

The sudden intensity to his stare had her wondering, and not for the first time, exactly how much of her he had seen on Morris's footage. Had he watched her undress? Mostly she was mortified by the thought, but there was a small part of her—the part that came alive around him-that hoped he had, hoped he'd liked what he'd seen.

Really, Claire? she reprimanded herself. She should write a book: "From Bitchy to Burlesque in Five Short Weeks." Or had it been six? Either way, real classy.

"I'm just glad I won't be running into him ever again," she said.

"Don't worry, he's locked up for good."

She nodded, wanting to get off the depressing topic. Taking a moment, she looked around, noticing the prevalence of blue and figuring out what the celebration was all about.

"I'm the godfather," Bruce said in a slow rasp, an imitation that would have Marlon Brando turning over in his grave.

She had to laugh. "I won't stay long," she promised, thinking he was probably busy, perhaps even had a date. Her joviality dulled with the thought.

He captured her hand, turning it in both of his. Tracing the small scar below her pinky with his finger, his voice dropped low when he said, "Stay as long as you like."

Annnnnnd there he was again, wearing nothing but a towel. The picture in her head seemed indecent with him standing so close and heat hit her cheeks like a raging fire. Remember why you're here, she repeated in an attempt to calm it. Easing her hand from his, she had to take a few more deep breaths again before saying, "They've asked me to go to Germany—to the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center. There have been quite a few cases of pneumonia among the troops, more than a hundred since June. They want a two-person investigative team to review the records and lab results. Since I've just returned, it's up to me whether I go or not. I'll be leaving next week if I do."

Bruce's eyes widened. "So soon? How's your dad?"

How did he . . . ? Oh, yeah, she had told him about her father. Just like she'd told him about Captain Harrison. Although Claire had failed to mention that she was the one who'd revealed Harrison's multiple affairs to his wife. Destroying a marriage wasn't something she liked to talk about. Not that she'd done it out of spite or revenge; it was simply the right thing to do. The Navy sure as hell wasn't going to knock on the woman's door and fill her in. It had made an enemy of Harrison, though. Claire still got wind of his many accusations from time to time. He told anyone willing to listen that she was inept at her job, incapable of handling stress, sleeping her way to every promotion. The list kept growing. Most who knew him realized these were the desperate rants of an angry man, but once a year or so Claire would run into a Harrison supporter, and then she'd have to deal with receiving the cold shoulder or, even worse, inappropriate advances. Is that what prompted Morris's behavior? she wondered. Had he met Harrison? Heard his lies? Believed she would—

"Claire? Please tell me he's not . . ."

The softly spoken question brought her back to the moment, back to the festivities surrounding her and the worry lining Bruce's brow. "Oh, sorry, no. Dad is doing well. Right now he's in remission. Thank you for asking."

He smiled his relief and she looked down at her hands, trying not to twist them. "My commander wanted to know if you would be willing to accompany me, help with the investigation. He wanted me to get your permission before approaching General Evans." She shrugged and tried her best to look indifferent about his answer, wondering if she was pulling it off.

A warm palm came up to her face and tilted her head up so that her gaze would meet his. "What about you, Claire?" There was a hint of mischief in those dark eyes as he leaned down, bringing his mouth next to her ear to whisper, "What is it that you want?"

He drew back and held her stare, a dare if she'd ever seen one.

And for the first time in years, Claire threw caution to the wind, letting passion escape the safe confines of fantasy, and acted on an impulse that was anything but spontaneous.

No, she'd been thinking about doing this for months.

She reached up to the back of his neck, pulled him closer . . . and kissed him.

****THE END****

Those two little words are always hard to write. Luckily, it's not really the end!!!!! Please join me to find out what else I have in store for these guys. Be warned, though, The Wild Ones is a slightly steamier read. What can I say? 🤷🏻‍♀️ It is Paul's turn 😉

I appreciate you taking time out of your day(s) to spend with my boys. I will have a special thank you section for all my readers soon, with a request for feedback as well. Anything you can think of that could be changed or improved upon, please let me know.

I will see you in The Wild Ones!

Thank you so much for reading and supporting me and my characters❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Keep reading for the Wedding Bonus Chapter 💞