Striking Distance

a rack in your closet, some space in the bathroom, my own parking place. Maybe I could even be your steady guy.”

She was smiling now. “You want to move into the loft and go steady with me?”

He raised his hands to her face, cupped her cheeks, told her what was really in his heart. “Or you could marry me instead.”

Her eyes went wide, her pupils dilating.

Adrenaline?

“I know it’s a big step from no strings to rings, bella, but I fell in love with you that first night in Dubai. It just took me a while to realize it. I thought there’d be time. I thought I’d find you, but then you were gone. This love we feel for each other, it’s special, and I want to take hold of it with both hands.”

Laura looked into Javier’s eyes, the intensity she saw there making her pulse race. He’d just asked her to marry him. She hadn’t expected this. Not yet, anyway.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak. “Are . . . are you sure? I’m on a terrorist kill list. Do you really want to live your whole life—”

“Looking over my shoulder?” His gaze traveled over her face. “Yeah, I do. In case you haven’t noticed, bad guys don’t scare me. What scares me is the idea of not being here when you need me.”

There was one other thing.

“You come from a big family with lots of brothers and sisters. Are you sure you won’t regret not being a father?”

He looked as if he might laugh. “I want to marry you, not your uterus. If I want to spend time with kids, I’ve got a dozen nieces and nephews. But there’s also a sweet little girl in Stockholm who means a lot to me. I didn’t have a thing to do with bringing her into this world, and I won’t raise her. But I held her life in my hands for a few priceless hours, and there’s a part of me that considers her ours. I want us to watch her grow up together.”

Tears blurred Laura’s vision, his words touching the most tender part of her, the tightness in her throat making it hard to speak.

He frowned and wiped a tear from her cheek, apparently misunderstanding. “If it’s too soon, I understand. I didn’t mean—”

“Yes.” She answered without the slightest hesitation or the tiniest shred of doubt.

“Yes?” He seemed confused. “You said yes.”

She laughed. “What did you think I was going to say?”

“Well, I . . .”

And she understood. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”

Like everything about him, it was spontaneous, sincere, straight from his heart.

“I wanted to ask you one day when the time seemed right, but we started talking and . . . Hell, I don’t even have a ring.” He looked into her eyes, his knuckles caressing her cheek. “I’m naked here, bella, just laying myself out for you, telling you how I feel.”

Something inside Laura melted to see this big, strong man so completely vulnerable. “What you’ve done for me . . . I never thought I’d feel this whole again. You helped me put the pieces of myself back together. But if my whole world fell apart again tomorrow, the piece I couldn’t live without is you. Your love has been my salvation, and I don’t want to live an hour of my life without you.”

He ducked down, kissed her slow and deep, then drew back, a look of astonishment on his handsome face. “?Anda pal carajo! I’m going to marry you. Who’d have thought that a woman as classy and beautiful as you would end up with a Boricua kid from the South Bronx?”

Before Laura could say a word, he scooped her up in his arms and swung her in a circle, shouting for the world to hear. “?Wepa!”

She shrieked, laughed, then found herself on her feet again, held tight in his arms.

“You won’t regret this, bella.”

She smiled, kissed him. “I know.”

They turned toward home, walking hand in hand.

For someone who’d never wanted to get married, Laura suddenly couldn’t wait. “We could get a license tomorrow and get married on Saturday.”

“Nah, that won’t do. Mama Andreina would kick my ass. If my abuelita is not at the wedding, we’re not married.”

“So what you’re telling me is that this is going to be a case of ‘My Big Fat Puerto Rican Wedding’?”

He chuckled. “See what you got yourself into?”

But Laura wouldn’t change it for the world.

EPILOGUE

Seven months later

Private island of El Conquistador Resort

Off the eastern tip of Puerto Rico

LAURA WALKED HAND in hand with Javier toward a pair of waiting beach chairs, the sea breeze catching her hair, sand warm against the soles of her bare feet. She looked up and down the beach for Erik, Heidi, and the girls. “Do you see them?”

“They’re probably eating lunch.”

She’d forgotten it was almost noon. “I guess we slept late.”

“Sleep had nothing to do with it.” Javier grinned.

Grandma Inga and Mama Andreina sat side by side beneath a beach umbrella of palm fronds. Javier’s two sisters, Ana and Nayelis, were having an animated conversation while sunning themselves on beach towels. Sophie, Megan, Kat, Tessa, and Kara sat in the sunshine closer to the water, talking and watching their kids play together in the sand. Marc, Nate, Julian, and Kara’s husband, Reece, had taken on some of Javier’s former Team buddies in a game of beach volleyball—John LeBlanc, Brian Desprez, Chris Ross, and Steve Zimmerman.

“If you’re going to call it, Hunter, at least hit the damned ball.”

“If your foot hadn’t tripped me, Dickangelo, I would have.”

“You guys do know how to play this game, right?” Reece asked.

“They probably learned the rules by watching women in bikinis play,” Nate said.

John ended the bickering. “You ladies going to talk or play volleyball?”

Meanwhile, Holly sat in her bikini in the shade near the bar holding court with three of Javier’s male cousins—while sneaking covert glances at the shirtless SEALs in the volleyball pitch.

Natalie and Zach were nowhere to be seen. She had a good idea where they were. Having been married for almost two years now, they wanted a baby.

Laura glanced out over the waves, saw someone dangling a hundred feet in the air from a parasail that was being towed by a boat. “Oh, God! Is that Gabe up there?”

Javier glanced up. “Looks fun, doesn’t it?”

“Suicidal is more the word I was looking for.”

They settled into their beach chairs. Laura peeled off the short dress she’d worn as a cover-up, the sun warm on her skin, her body feeling languid from a morning of sleeping in, room service, and sex. She pulled a tube of sunscreen out of her beach tote, rubbed it into her exposed skin.

“Sure you don’t need help?” Javier watched her, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. “You’ve got a lot of skin, and I’ve got two big hands.”

“Can you put it on my back?” She turned away from him, drew her hair aside.

“You got it.” He took the tube from her, planting a kiss on her neck before he began to rub the cream into her shoulders.