Operation Willow Quest (2 page)

Willow
swallowed past a large
lump in her throat and had to drop her gaze from the touching scene before her.
A slight movement behind them caught her eye, and she looked up in time to see
three other men as they came through the doorway.

“Get a room, you two.” The
youthful-looking face of the man who spoke belied his dangerous profession.
Johnny
Tupperoni
had the appearance of an easygoing
twenty-eight-year-old until you took a closer look and discovered that like the
others he had a world-weary, hard edge to him that made you
realise
he’d seen more than his fair share of danger.

She watched as her sister pulled away and
smiled, reaching up to kiss each of the men on the cheek as they filed past.

She stopped before Peter Delaware, and Willow saw her sister’s
eyes cloud as she took in the crutches and the man’s bandaged leg.

“Don’t get all evil Nurse
Rached
on me now. It’s just a flesh wound.” He shrugged off Summer’s concern briefly.

“I’ve heard that before,” Summer snorted in
reply as she turned back to snuggle into her husbands arms. “Oh! Willow’s here,” she
announced, remembering her sister still seated at the table.

Willow
tried not to cringe
under the weight of the five sets of eyes that
swivelled
in her direction. She waved and smiled weakly, reaching for her cup in an
effort to distract attention. Unlike her sister, she’d never felt at ease amongst
this group of men. They were all so…male.

They settled themselves about the table in a
noisy, jovial homecoming as Summer went inside, and Willow excused herself, taking the
opportunity to escape and lending a hand to help her sister in the kitchen. She
greeted her brother-in-law and welcomed him home while Summer informed him
she’d be staying until the baby was born and he smiled with what looked like a
surge of relief.

Y
ou and
me both, mate
, Willow
thought, glad she would no longer be handling this alone now he was home.

“Can you take this out, Will? I’m going to
rustle up some breakfast,” Summer said, thrusting the tray of cups and fresh
pot of coffee into her hands. With a deep breath to fortify herself in order to
face the men outside, she concentrated on
not
dropping the tray as she set it down. As she took her seat, Willow searched for
something to fill the awkward silence that had fallen upon the table at her
return. “How’s your leg?” she asked as her gaze swept across Del, seated opposite her.

“Still there,” he drawled in his deep, southern
tinged accent.

He’d been part of the team who’d rescued her
from Cambodia.
She’d been aware of him then and unfortunately, she wasn’t any less
aware
of him now. Theirs was an odd
affiliation—no other person managed to irk her as thoroughly as Peter Delaware.
No matter how hard she tried to avoid the man whenever she came to visit, he always
seemed to be there—waiting to
antagonise
her.

“Just passing through again?”

“Nope, I’m here until the baby comes along.”

“You think you’ll be able to handle not working
that long?” he asked sarcastically, reaching out for a cup of the hot coffee.

“Summer’s due any day now. I’m sure I’ll
manage,” she answered, looking away from his sarcastic glance. “But just in
case, I brought along my laptop and camera.”

“Life’s never dull in the world of Willow
Sheldon then,” Del
said, a slight smile touching his lips.

Nope,
never dull, just…
She pulled herself up short. She’d been about to say
lonely
, but it wasn’t…at least it had never seemed that way before.
Why now?
she pondered, and a small
frown touched her brow.

Gradually the other men began to chat and Willow gratefully allowed
their deep voices to float across the table around her, happy to sit back and
let them continue with their idle banter. She could feel Del’s gaze on her, though, now and again,
and forced herself to ignore him. What
was
it
about this guy that raised her hackles so often?

“Hope you’re hungry.” Summer’s cheerful voice interrupted
her train of thought as Tate carried out the plates of bacon and eggs she’d
thrown together.

The table came to life in an explosion of hands
grabbing at heaped piles of hot food, and insults flung back and forth. Willow glanced across at
her sister to gauge her reaction to the din, and found Summer watching with a serene
smile, happy to have her little family all together and safe once more. Willow’s gaze shifted and
collided with two blue eyes—blue eyes that haunted her dreams in between her
nightmares. A surge of panic erupted within and she excused herself from the
table, needing to escape Peter Delaware’s intense gaze.

Willow
was packing away the
last of the breakfast crockery in the kitchen when she turned and let out an involuntary
gasp of surprise. “How do you still manage to slink around, even on crutches?”
she asked, annoyed.

“‘Slink?’” he enquired with an arch of his
eyebrow.

“Yeah, you know—like a snake.” She turned away
from him to wipe down the benches.

“Ouch. I can see you’re in fine form today.” He
leaned a hip against the breakfast bar, apparently in no hurry to end the
conversation.

“Is there a point to this discussion? Do you
need something?” Willow
asked tightly, hating that this man could put her so on edge with nothing more
than a glance.

“Do I need something? Hmm, now there’s a question,”
he said and eyed her through sleepy bedroom eyes.

“In your dreams pal,” she snorted.

“What?” he asked, spreading his hands in a
gesture of innocence.

“Don’t you have a bar to go to or something?
Isn’t that what happens when you come home? Hit the town and find a willing
woman to celebrate the mighty warrior’s return?” Willow asked dryly.

“Damn, woman, you really hate me, don’t you?”
His frown seemed to indicate his shock was genuine.

Willow
turned her back on him
to hang up the tea towel. “I don’t
hate
 
you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I don’t
like the world you come from. Marines are Summer’s thing,
not mine
,” she added for good measure.

Del
let out a low whistle.
“Guess that sure puts me in my place.”

Spinning back to face him,
she demanded, “What is it you want from me, Del? Am I some kind of challenge because I’m
the only woman you’ve come across who won’t fall at your feet?”

“
Darlin
’, you don’t
want to know what I want from you right now,” he drawled, with a slow sexy
grin.

“You’re right, I don’t. So stay out of my way
and I’ll stay
outta
’ yours.” She turned on her heel
and walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance, biting her tongue
against the urge to retort to his low, sexy chuckle following her departure.

* * * *

Del
stared after her, his
cocky grin melting into a thoughtful frown. From the moment he stepped through
the door and saw Willow Sheldon he knew he was in big trouble. Of all the times
to be out of action. He rubbed at his injured leg and grimaced. He’d rather forget
the last few days.

His unit had successfully infiltrated an
isolated camp, where they’d been sent to gather Intel to support the military’s
suspicion this small country was steadily building a large munitions depot.

Del
didn’t care about the
politics behind the situation; all he’d wanted was a signal their chopper was
on its way so he could get the hell
outta
that
stinkin
’ desert. Visions of tall ice-cold bottles of beer
had flashed dangerously before his eyes and he’d had to shake his head more
than once to rid himself of the image, reminding himself distractions were a
sure-fire way to get yourself or someone else killed on the job.

One by one, the men had turned their eyes
toward the sky as they picked up the sound of the approaching chopper, until
slowly the spot had grown larger. A sudden outbreak of rapid fire scattered the
rocks on the dusty ground around them. They’d taken cover over the side of a
small rocky outcrop. It was safe enough for the time being, but to reach the
chopper they’d have to break cover and cross an open clearing.

The chopper circled once, before it lightly
touched down on the rough ground. Del
knew it wouldn’t be hanging around for long—not with live fire ricocheting all
over the place. So if they wanted to get home the easy way, they’d have to make
a run for it. The hard way, sure as hell wouldn’t be much fun, and he was
definitely not up for an impromptu hike across the desert dodging check points
and border crossings.

Bullets had whizzed uncomfortably close as
they’d sprinted toward the chopper. Bringing up the rear, Del had thrown his gun in ahead of him as he
dove head first into the belly of the aircraft and felt a sharp sting tear
through his leg. Arms reached out and grabbed him, pulling him inside as the
chopper lifted and swept over the arid ground below them.

Del
glanced down at his
leg and swore as blood soaked through his trouser leg. Maloney, who also backed
up as the team’s medic, tore away the fabric of his fatigues and sent him a
brief glance. “You’ll be all right, it’s just a nick,” he’d said with a grin.

Del
didn’t bother arguing,
but he didn’t recall much more of the journey home after that, and when he came
to later, he was in recovery at the hospital back on base and grateful to learn
there was no permanent damage.

However, that didn’t help his situation with Willow. For this woman, a
guy had to be on the top of his game in order to keep up with her. He gave a
reluctant chuckle. How many times could he take being shot down by her? The
answer to that, regretfully, was many! He wasn’t sure why he kept coming back
for more when she’d made it obvious she wasn’t interested. Only, something
about that didn’t ring true. He couldn’t put his finger on it—but he was
willing to bet his life on the certainty she wasn’t as uninterested as she made
out. Or, was it his injured ego refusing to accept the fact she wasn’t
interested?

Del
had to admit she might
have a point. Maybe he gave her such a hard time because she made it so obvious
she didn’t like him. His heart beat a slow, unsteady rhythm, and his mind
filled with a whole mess of things he wanted from this woman—things he was
pretty certain she wouldn’t want him
thinkin
’ about,
let alone voicing.

Maybe it did rub him the wrong way that she was
incapable of being civil for more than a few minutes in his presence. But why
it should bug him so bad?
That
was
the thing he couldn’t figure out…but it sure would be interesting to find out.

Chapter 3

Not long after the encounter with Del, Willow
heard rowdy farewells and breathed a sigh of relief. She told herself she
wasn’t being a chicken hiding out in the room—she’d been jotting down notes for
work, but the truth was that damn Peter Delaware irked her more than she cared
to admit. His
Nickelback
-like, gravely, bad boy voice
sent a small sliver of something she tried hard to ignore, through her.

She opened the door of the fridge and removed a
tall glass jug of juice. As she closed the door and backed out, she jumped.
Behind the fridge door, she found Del
propped calmly against the pantry cupboard.

“Would you
stop
doing that,” she almost yelled at him, awkwardly trying to balance the
heavy jug, tempted to hit him over the head with it.

“Doing what?” he asked coolly.

“Sneaking up on me.”

“Sorry—occupational hazard.” He shrugged,
seeming anything but repentant, and she was beginning to think he was doing it
on purpose just to get a kick out of scaring the wits out of her.

“Well, cut it out,” she snarled opening
cupboards as she searched her sister’s kitchen for a glass. “What are you doing
here anyway; I thought you all left?”

“Oh haven’t you heard?” His lazy grin did
nothing to reassure her, as she watched him tuck his crutches under his arm and
deftly
manoeuvre
back to the breakfast bar to take a
seat. “I’ll be staying here for a few days.”

Willow
slopped the juice over
the edge of the glass as she poured. “Damn it…” She swore softly at the mess
she’d made and grabbed a cloth to clean it up. She lifted an irritated gaze to
his amused face. “Why are you staying here?”

“Your sister decided I should stay. I’m
injured, don’t you know?” he pointed out with a straight face.

“And you go along with whatever Summer says?”

“Hey, your sister may be little, but I’ve seen
her mad,” he protested, selecting an apple from the fruit bowl before him and
sinking his strong white teeth into its firm, ruby flesh.