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“I’m fine,” she hastened to reassure them.
“Not a scratch on me!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Lauren cut off her retort as she noticed
the soldier/doctor coming toward them. He held his cap in one hand and had his
wool jacket thrown over one arm. For the first time, she got a full look at the
face of the man who stepped into a crisis without a qualm, who ordered the men
around him with innate authority, who most probably saved the man’s leg with
his quick actions, and her breath caught. Irritated, she pushed down the
reaction and studied him as he strode to where they stood.

His buzz cut was considerably shorter than
all the other reenactors’ hairstyles. He also wore a close-shaved goatee
instead of a full beard. Of course, that drew her attention to his lips and
idly she wondered what kind of kisser a man with a goatee might be.

Lauren became acutely aware of his height
as he drew closer. Somehow down on the battlefield she’d thought him near her
own stature, but now realized he stood a head taller than her own
five-foot-four frame. In fact, the man was huge. Body-builder huge. Huge as in
over six feet tall with shoulders wide enough to land a plane on. The summer
heat made his cotton shirt stick to his skin in all the right places. On him,
rather than look obscene, the blood spatters gave him a dangerous air. In spite
of her intent to remain coolly aloof, his eyes were so piercingly blue, his
gaze so intimate, she quickly looked away lest he see the problems she took
such pains to hide.

John flashed a tight smile to the woman
with the stroller and the kid he assumed to be her son as he approached the
small group. The boy grinned back at him with something close to idol worship
so he sent him a wink before turning to the woman the kid had called “aunt”.
Now that the moment of crisis had passed, he paused to take a good, long look
at the woman who hadn’t flinched at the sight of blood and who so competently followed
his orders.

She stood maybe a foot shorter than him,
but that was pretty normal. He tended to look at the tops of heads a lot. Being
a little over six-three gave him some advantages in views, both out and down.
The woman’s T-shirt clung quite nicely to her curves, although the blood
spatters dampened his more lustful thoughts. Still, the woman had ample breasts
that stretched that knit material quite nicely.

He was just getting around to noticing the
blend of colors in her auburn hair when she turned those dark eyes toward him.
John felt a small shock—he’d expected the competence and hoped for the
interest, but the haunted, tired look that lurked behind the first two
surprised him. This woman had issues. The red flags went up and his greeting
became cordial instead of warm and inviting.

“I just wanted to say thank you for your
help.”

She put out her hand in greeting and John
took it, accepting her firm grip as a matter of course.

“You did good work down there. Not the
first bone you’ve handled.”

Her voice had a musical quality to it that
he couldn’t quite identify, but liked in spite of the warnings he tried to give
himself. “Had to learn a thing or two about first aid in the last job I held.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That went far beyond
first aid.”

John shrugged, not rising to the bait. She
wasn’t the only one with a demon or two in her background. His years leading
men through desert mountains, dodging sniper fire and mortar shells had given
him far more practice patching up bodies for transport than he really wanted to
remember. Not that he wasn’t proud of his military career, yet here in this
museum park with the sun beginning to slant long rays through the trees, the
sound of children’s laughter and tour guides telling stories just seemed to be
the wrong place to bring it up. He sent the probe back to her with a deft
twist.

“You seemed to know your way around a man’s
groin yourself. Good hand work.”

Her eyes flashed once and she gave a quick
glance toward the boy who hung on their every word. But the kid gave no
appearance of having understood the innuendo. The woman with the stroller,
however, laughed out loud.

“Oh Lauren, this one’s a keeper. Be sure to
get his number.” She turned the stroller and took the boy’s hand. “C’mon, Ian.
Let’s get you cleaned up the rest of the way.”

“Beth…” The petite woman started to
protest, but with a saucy wink at the two of them, her friend—sister?—pulled
the kid and pushed the stroller toward the restrooms. His erstwhile nurse
apologized.

“I’m sorry, my friend likes to play
matchmaker…”

“It’s okay,” John told her, taking her arm
and turning her toward the ice-cream stand. “I’m John…John McAllen. And you’re
Lauren.” When she didn’t answer, he glanced down and prodded her. “Does Lauren
have a last name?”

She shook her head as if coming out of a
reverie. “Sorry. Yes. I’m Maj—” She stopped herself and gave a little shake of
her head before stopping entirely, setting a determined smile on her face and
holding out her hand. “I’m Lauren Carr. Nice to meet you, John McAllen.”

Okay, now he was intrigued. She’d been a
major. Army field hospital, if he had to guess. That would explain the
competence and the brief flash of irritation when he’d asked her if she could
handle it down on the meadow. It would also explain the demon that haunted her
eyes.

He pointed to the cart a little ways
farther down. “Looks like he’s about to close up for the day. How about an
ice-cream cone before he does?”

She smiled for the first time and the
change in her face amazed him, giving him a glimpse of all her possibilities.
“We were on our way over there when your friend broke his leg. Beth and Ian got
theirs, but I didn’t.”

“Then ice-cream cones it is.” He gestured
her forward and they wound their way through the dozen or so people who still
hung out, licking ice cream and taking their time. John took a deep breath,
smiling and nodding to those they passed. He paused only once when a pretty
young woman put her hand on his arm and asked for a picture. Lauren waited for
him, seeming bemused by the request, but John felt happy to comply. Not only
did it appeal to the innate theatrical vein in his psyche, but the real-life
blood staining his uniform would give this couple a reminder of the realities
of warfare, even if the accident had happened after the fact. To drive the
point home, he told the woman and her boyfriend about some of the medical
conditions of the mid-1800s, including the fact that, in all likelihood, had
such an accident happened during a real battle, the chances were the man would
have died, or at the very least, have lost the leg entirely. Now, due to modern
medicine, he’d be up and walking within weeks.

As a result of the delay, they got to the
stand just as the vendor flipped the sign to “closed”. Undeterred, John knocked
on the window to get the man’s attention.

“It’s been a long afternoon and this little
lady really needs an ice-cream cone to cheer her up,” he told the man through
the glass. When Lauren gave a little pout and batted her eyelashes at him, the
man acquiesced and lifted the window once more.

“But only for you two and only ’cause I saw
what you did down there.”

“Thanks.” John leaned on the counter and
turned to Lauren. “So what’re you having?”

Lauren bit her lower lip as she quickly
scanned the choices to make sure her favorite was there then announced, “Mint
chocolate chip.”

“Make it two,” he told the man, reaching
for his wallet. He saw her pull a small wallet from her jeans pocket, so he put
his hand on her arm to stop her. “I’ve got this.”

Color came up in her cheeks. “It’s not necessary—”

“Didn’t say it was. Let’s just chalk it up
to the uniform and a bygone era of gentlemanly behavior.”

Lauren nodded, conflicting emotions running
rampant inside her. Reading people was second nature to her. One didn’t have a
lot of time to make a call when the medics brought in their buddies. And there
was more than one way to bleed.

But this John McAllen, so far, was an
enigma. Obviously used to being in charge, yet out on this imaginary
battlefield as a private. Smooth, definitely sexy—she’d seen the way the young
woman reacted to him when he posed with his arm around her. Lauren had to admit
she felt a little of the same herself. The way he looked right at her, as if
she were the most important person on the planet right now. The way he steered
her with small touches on her arm or back, not as if she were incapable, but as
if he were protecting her.

That was it, right there. In his presence,
she felt safe. As if he had the strength of body and will to fight off all her
demons, both real and imagined. For a brief moment she thought of the two of
them standing on a hill in a time period even longer ago and knew he’d be
wearing armor and riding a white charger. Or maybe chaps and spurs and a white
hat.

The vendor came with their cones and Lauren
took a good, long lick, letting the mint settle deep inside her. A slow smile
spread across her face. “Is there anything better for the soul than mint
chocolate chip?” she commented.

“I can think of a few things,” John
answered her, taking a lick of ice cream, twisting the cone around in his
fingers. Yet his eyes never left hers, reading her body language far more
easily than she read his. He had to. Lauren knew she was no good at hiding her
emotions after the crisis had passed. Right now she felt safe, secure…and sexy
in his eyes. She lifted her chin and took him up on his offer.

“Oh really? Name one.”

“Tying a woman down and making love to her
all night long.”

Lauren choked on her ice cream. Of all the
answers she’d been expecting from years of bad pick-up lines, John’s answer
came out of the blue and smacked her right in the pussy. She felt herself grow
warm all over despite the ice cream she tried desperately to swallow.

And it didn’t help to have him stand there,
looking nonchalant, gallantly offering her a paper napkin as if they were
discussing the weather. Her eyes watering from swallowing too much ice cream
too fast, she tried to look up at him, but the sun was behind him.

“No fair. Can’t see you,” she muttered and
pushed him to her other side so she could give him the glare he deserved.

Except he took one look at her and laughed
out loud. A good, hearty, infectious chuckle. When her glare turned to
puzzlement, he reached over with his own napkin and wiped the green ice cream
off the tip of her nose. She rolled her eyes and relented.

“Okay, so your answer wasn’t quite what I
expected,” she started.

“But you’re intrigued enough that you’ll go
out to dinner with me tomorrow night,” he finished.

Lauren opened her mouth to demure, but
Beth’s voice superimposed itself over hers. “Of course she is, and she’d love
to. What time?”

“Beth, I can arrange my own calendar.”

“Seven o’clock.” John spoke directly to
Beth. The conversation continued as if she wasn’t there.

“Here’s her address and phone number. I
took the liberty of writing it down for you.”

“That was kind of you, ma’am. I appreciate
it.”

“Casual dress? Or something a little
fancier?”

John paused and gave Lauren a once-over.
She took the opportunity to interject her own thoughts on the matter. “I’m
right here you know. You can talk to me and—”

“A little fancier.”

“Perfect. I know just the outfit she should
wear. It was nice meeting you, John.”

“Nice to meet you too, Beth.” He shook the
hand Beth offered and once again tousled Ian’s hair. “And you too, young man.
You make sure these ladies get home safe now, you hear?”

“Yes sir!” Ian snapped a salute and Lauren
couldn’t help smiling. His arm was all akimbo and his fingers at the wrong
angle, but his posture was straight and his grin infectious.

“Dismissed, soldier!”

“Come on, Aunt Lauren. Beth says it’s time
to go home.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the exit.

“Just a minute, Ian…” She turned to talk to
John, but he’d already moved away. Instead, she took her frustration out on her
best friend. “Beth, how could you? We don’t know anything about him.”

“And if we did things your way, it would
stay that way.” Beth pushed the stroller over the uneven ground, making her way
toward the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. Most of the people were
leaving now that the battle was done and the museum’s buildings were being
shuttered.

“Lauren, look. You’ve been home two months
now and barely get out of that apartment except when the girls get together.”

“That’s not true. I’m here with Ian today,
aren’t I? I’ve taken him to the zoo, to the science museum—”

“And to the planetarium. Lauren, you’re
avoiding the topic.”

She was and she knew it. Beth’s observation
fell too close to the target.

“Lauren, you won’t even go to the VA
hospital to talk to someone. I won’t pretend I understand what you went through
over there but I do know what you’re going through over here isn’t any good
either.”