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  Her breakup with Michelle had dragged on for months. She’d left Thailand committed to ending their relationship and thought Michelle would be grateful that she was taking the lead to end what should have ended years ago. One of them had to.

  But Michelle had other ideas. She refused to accept that their relationship was over and hovered over Emily as though afraid to let her out of her sight. She told her constantly how terrified she’d been that Emily might have died and that she wanted to give their love a second chance. Attentive to the point of smothering, she insisted that she was simply trying to make their relationship work.

  Emily didn’t know if guilt or love was motivating Michelle, and found it hard to care. She had taken two weeks off work to allow her leg to heal and to recover from the ordeal. She didn’t have the energy to deal with her ex-partner’s neediness as well. Finally she had to move out of the house. She’d been living at her friend Julia’s place.

  At first, Michelle had called several times a day begging her to come home, but Emily remained firm. Her trip to Khao Lak had confirmed that she was no longer in love with Michelle, and the subsequent months only solidified her feelings. Emily knew her choices had nothing to do with the woman who’d rescued her. Even if she’d never met Hayden, she would have come back home and ended her relationship. But that fact didn’t stop her thinking of Hayden constantly.

  She’d tried to find her. She had contacted the American Embassy, the Red Cross, and various other aid agencies that had swarmed the island to assist the Thais in recovering from the disaster. Without Hayden’s last name, she could find no record that she was either dead or alive. But she felt strangely defeated, dealing with bureaucrats and rehashing events she wanted to erase from her mind. The more she thought about Khao Lak Beach, the more stuck she became.

  Lately she felt as if she didn’t know who she was anymore. Ridiculously minor things irritated her. She had trouble concentrating and was always looking over her shoulder. For what, she didn’t know, but her eyes were never still. Her friends had noticed and suggested she see a therapist, someone who specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder. They loved her and they were probably right. But Emily wasn’t ready for that and hadn’t made the call. Julia was the only person she really talked to about the terror, and those conversations were strange. Emily always felt distant, reciting sanitized facts and leaving out the images that kept her awake at night.

  Her life seemed out of control, yet nothing terrible was happening. She knew she should be thankful. So many people had lost so much, and here she was. Alive. Healthy. Getting back to life as usual. And, of course, she was at a military base sitting on a hard metal folding chair with her hands cuffed behind her back like a criminal.

  Even her mouth sounded delinquent. Normally, she would never have talked to a peace officer like she had just spoken to this one. Her reference to Marshall Matt Dillon on the old TV western Gunsmoke was totally uncalled for. Emily lowered her head. She wasn’t the type to have outbursts and lose control. Was this what her life had come to?

  She wasn’t sure why she was so outraged when the president announced additional troops were being sent to Iraq. She hadn’t waved signs when the war began. Why now? Emily frowned. She’d never been seriously involved in political activism. Sure, she had opinions and had donated to causes like Planned Parenthood and the Human Rights Campaign. But she was disconcerted by the fury that simmered below the calm surface she presented to the world.

  The last straw for her had been a news item about a soldier who gave his life trying to save his buddies. She must have cried for hours that day, thinking about his parents and the dreams they’d lost along with their only son, and for what? It made no sense and she couldn’t sit idly by, so she’d started organizing rallies and protests. And now here she was, being treated like she was the enemy.

  Emily had a strong dislike for the military or anything remotely related to it, and her experiences during protests had sharpened her views. It seemed obvious that members of the armed services were so brainwashed into following orders that they were incapable of independent thought. They were blindly accepting orders to march off to places like Afghanistan and Iraq and willingly placing their lives in jeopardy. She couldn’t understand what motivated such unquestioning obedience. Patriotism and national security? That was the rationale she kept hearing from politicians and the media. But she loved her country, too, and she didn’t think the U.S. had any business invading other nations. Why did the government ignore people like her?

  Emily shifted in her seat and tried to focus on answering the questions being thrown at her. But a prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck and a sense of unease settled in her stomach. Someone was watching her. Angry at being gawked at by someone who probably didn’t have the guts to sit where she was sitting, she lifted her head and surveyed her surroundings. She quickly zeroed in on the only person looking at her, an officer standing across the street. Emily smirked at the blinding shine on the shoes, the razor-sharp crease in the perfectly cut tan trousers, the flawlessly centered buckle, the slight rise under the breast pockets of the fitted shirt, and the cornucopia of ribbons on her chest on display like a shield of importance. The only thing out of place on this soldier was the expression on her face.

  Emily frowned, puzzled by the conflicting messages. The piercing eyes were telling her one thing, but the image in front of her was telling her something altogether different. One was heart-stoppingly familiar, the other completely foreign. Something was definitely out of place here. She tried to draw a breath, but her chest was frozen and she was suddenly falling down a tightly wound spiral. The world spun and the roar in her ears was deafening. She was looking down a funnel, one that got smaller and smaller as the image at the end rushed into sharp focus. The eyes that haunted her dreams stared back at her, barely visible beneath the brim of the army hat. The nose and the high cheekbones were achingly familiar to her trembling hands, and she knew those lips from their tender kisses in the early morning hours before the world took another strange turn and Hayden was lost to her.

  Shocked, Emily averted her stinging eyes. For a split second she wondered if she was imagining that the woman standing tall and official was Hayden. It had taken several months, but she had finally stopped looking for her everywhere she went. Still, she could not escape the blistering look of desire, or the softness of Hayden’s touch. She returned to the safety of Hayden’s arms almost every night, in dreams that felt so real she often woke feeling Hayden’s lips and responding wetly to her caresses.

  Forcing herself to breathe, she dared another look. She had given up hope of ever seeing Hayden again, and none of her dwindling daydreams about reunion included this.

  A woman in uniform.

  *

  Hayden reached a hand out instinctively to steady herself. The wall of the guard shack was the only steady thing in her life at this minute, and she clung to it like she had clung to that tree those long months ago. Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it might beat a path right out of her chest. Her senses were flooded with memories of those few days in Thailand. The sea air filled her nostrils, the warm sun caressed her back, and her arms ached to hold Emily once again.

  She took a tentative step toward the woman who had miraculously materialized from her memory but stopped herself, frozen with uncertainty. Should she interfere with the officer arresting Emily? Should she refuse to press charges? Or should she simply walk away? She was an officer of the United States Army. As such, she had certain responsibilities, one of which was protecting her military installation from threat wherever it might originate. But this was different.

  No amount of training could have prepared her for the feelings crashing through her body and the range of emotions filling her heart. She and Emily shared a connection born of their harrowing experiences in the tsunami. They would always be linked together as survivors, two women thrown together by fate and a bizarre set of circumstances. But there was something
else. It had been there from the first moment Hayden laid eyes on Emily floating in the water. The connection she felt wasn’t a matter of ego, as the one who saved her life, but a sense of calm excitement and challenge. No other woman had evoked such feelings in her. And certainly not one as beautiful as the woman staring at her now.

  Hayden watched the myriad of emotions cascade over Emily’s face as she finally recognized her. Hayden knew the same shock and disbelief was all over hers as well. Her breathing was ragged and her body was damp with perspiration that had nothing to do with the April sunshine and the frustration of dealing with the protest.

  “God, I hate these so-called do-gooders.” A booming voice startled her. General Foreman had taken a peculiar interest in Hayden when she first arrived on the base, and he was now literally breathing down her neck. “They don’t have any idea what we’re doing over there and how much it hurts troop morale to see this. Christ, it reminds me of Vietnam.”

  “Over there” was Afghanistan and Iraq, and the speaker had served in the post currently occupied by Hayden during the Vietnam War some thirty years ago. “I understand, General,” She watched helplessly as Emily was led away by the officer and placed in the back of a patrol car.

  Their eyes met. Hayden’s gut wrenched at the look of confusion and despair on Emily’s face, but there was nothing she could do about it. At least not right now.

  Chapter Nine

  Hayden put her sunglasses on, pulled the ball cap low on her head, and stepped out into the sun. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the cement, wet from a light drizzle that had sprung up after lunch. She had changed out of her uniform into jeans and a polo shirt, and as she walked rapidly to her car, she prayed no one had recognized her. She would be hard-pressed to explain why she was coming out of a police station.

  She tried not to think about the ramifications for her career if anyone found out she’d posted bail for one of the trespassers on her base. There would be hell to pay from her commander, and if word got back to her father she would never hear the end of it. Without a doubt Hayden knew that if she were asked to explain herself, she would have a hard time hiding her feelings. That rattled her. So did the fact that her careful reserve, mastered over years of self-discipline, had crumbled at the shock of seeing Emily again. But she couldn’t let Emily stay in lockup. Her hands shook as she opened the car door and fastened her seat belt. She gripped the steering wheel to steady them. Emily Bradshaw. She said the name out loud a second time and the butterflies in her stomach increased. Finally she had a name and address, but no clue as to what she was going to do with the information. She had agonized for months, chasing dead ends in a desperate attempt to find Emily. Finally she had accepted that she would never see her again and now here she was, practically in her lap. Hayden should be thrilled, but she was petrified with uncertainty.

  Indecision was not a state Hayden was familiar with. She had been trained at an early age by her father, and later fine-tuned by the Army, that hesitancy could get her or those under her command killed. This episode with Emily was certainly not a matter of life or death, but Hayden knew her next move could change her life forever. How would her life be different if she saw Emily again, spoke with her, touched her? What would her life be like if she didn’t?

  No closer to an answer than she was a few hours ago, she focused on the front door of the police station.

  *

  Emily ignored the loud clanging of the jail doors. They had opened and closed every few minutes since she was dumped unceremoniously into the cell several hours ago. A lone window high on the stark wall provided the only natural lighting, and the bare toilet bolted to the floor in the corner was the crowning jewel in her temporary abode. She was not alone; two other women occupied the benches on the other side of the small, bleak room. One seemed to be a seasoned inmate and proud of it. She’d been after Emily since the door slammed shut, making it clear that she would be the queen bitch in this cell even if it meant beating the shit out of her to prove it. Emily had managed to avoid any direct confrontation but was fully prepared to defend herself if necessary. The other occupant had just violated parole.

  Sleep was impossible. Her companions were embroiled in a sordid conversation about their criminal pasts and low-rent lawyers who made them take pleas. They paused only when the door swung open and her name was called.

  “Your bail’s been posted,” the guard said. “Let’s go.”

  It took a few moments for his words to sink in, then she scrambled up and headed for the door as fast as she could.

  “See ya, sweet thing.” The sticky voice behind her belonged to her would-be “friend,” the Queen Bitch of holding cell number 8.

  Emily called, “Have a nice life,” and marched down the sterile corridor, wondering how Julia had heard that she was here and posted her bail. Despite the fact that she’d typed the “What to Do If You Are Arrested” handout herself, she hadn’t called anyone when she was booked. She’d been in a fog, giving her name and address on autopilot. Seeing Hayden again at the base had shaken her so deeply she didn’t react the way seasoned protesters were supposed to.

  She had thought of nothing else but Hayden since. She was breathtaking in her uniform, everything a military officer was expected to be. Tall, imposing, and intimidating. The clusters on her collar sparkled in the midday sun, explaining her command over their situation in the aftermath of the tsunami. Emily had been amazed at Hayden’s levelheadedness. That she’d known exactly what to do, where to go, and how to get there. In fact, she’d been trained to handle chaos and crises like the nightmare they found themselves in. Thank God.

  “Sign here.” A large manila envelope was thrust at her from a hole in the thick glass window that separated her from the jail matron on the other side.

  Emily hastily signed her name on the envelope, and the guard beside her ripped it open and dumped the contents on the counter. Emily gathered up her watch, wallet, car keys, cell phone, and her grandmother’s pocket knife that she always carried with her, and put everything in her pockets. The guard pointed to a large exit sign in multiple languages and Emily escaped through it, grateful for her freedom.

  The outer room was crowded and she scanned the people waiting there, expecting to see Julia. The absence of a friendly face made her want to cry. She recognized her disappointment with a bitter little smile. It wasn’t Julia she was really hoping for. Irrationally she had hoped Hayden would be there. She was looking for her the way she always did. Just in case.

  The sun blinded her as she exited the building, and she shielded her eyes until they adjusted to the bright light. She looked around but didn’t recognize any vehicle parked nearby. Sighing, she flipped open her phone and dialed Julia’s number. Maybe they had told her the process would take hours after the bail was paid. She was probably at home watching TV, waiting for a call.

  “Emily? Oh, thank God.” Julia greeted her with audible relief. “I was horrified when your friends called. I’m in the car now, on my way.”

  “I’ll be waiting out front,” Emily said. “There’s a bench.”

  “Those jerks,” Julia muttered. “Strange set of priorities, that’s all I can say.”

  Emily smiled, knowing Julia hadn’t even started. They would be talking about this for days, and one thing was certain, she was not going to mention Hayden’s name.

  *

  For the second time in twelve hours, Hayden didn’t know what to do. Her gut was telling her to step out of the car but her mind prevented her from moving. She needed to talk to Emily and see for herself that she had fully recovered from her injury on the beach, but under the circumstances that didn’t seem like a good idea. Emily was probably angry that Hayden hadn’t intervened back at the base. And shocked. She’d just been arrested, for God’s sake.

  Hayden watched her pace slowly back and forth as she talked on her cell phone. She wasn’t limping, so her leg must have healed well. Her heart beat wildly and a pang of loss tugged at her stomach. Emily
pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and Hayden ached at the memory of sliding her fingers through the soft brown tresses.

  She could so easily step out of her car. All she needed to do was open the door. Her hand shook as she reached for the handle. Emily would immediately see her. They could walk down the street to a quiet coffee shop and talk. Hayden could say the things she hadn’t had a chance to say that morning, after their lovemaking. Their time together had been left hanging, with no resolution and no way to tie up loose ends. Hayden had felt lost and adrift since she returned home, unable to return to life as she’d known it. Now, standing just across the street, was the reason for her turmoil…and the solution.

  Surely Hayden owed it to both of them to act. She would invite Emily back to her place. They could take some time to catch up on each other’s lives and discover more about each other. Then what? Talk about their major philosophical differences, the American military in Iraq, debate the funding of the war on terror like two rational, mature women with differing opinions? Or would they simply fall into each other’s arms to reexperience the connection they had in Thailand?

  Hayden realized she was gripping the door handle like a lifeline. She relaxed her fingers. This wasn’t the time for a tender reunion. Emily would probably hit her over the head with her cell phone. Hayden watched her look up and down the street, then settle on a bench. She put the phone away and remained watchful, obviously waiting for someone. Hayden deliberated once more, framing what she would say. An apology over the arrest would be necessary, to break the ice. The thought made her uneasy. She was proud to serve and had no intention of making excuses. Emily and her friends had broken the law by trespassing on the base. They might have even wanted to be arrested, to prove a point and get media attention.