Rachel Lee - Thanksgiving Daddy

A one-night stand between a SEAL and an air force major results in a holiday baby in New York Times bestselling author Rachel Lee’s new addition to the popular miniseries Conard County: The Next Generation!

Honor, duty and loyalty drove Major Edith Clapton to risk her life flying Combat Search and Recovery in Afghanistan. Hunger, desire and lust drove her into the arms of Seth Hardin, a gorgeous navy SEAL she had airlifted to safety. Their epic one-night stand in the shadow of the Afghan mountains has left Edie facing the most important mission of her life: motherhood.

After sharing her news, Edie is stunned by Seth’s insistence on being a father to his child—and the bewildering feelings this practical stranger has stirred within her. This wasn’t part of her life-in-the-navy plan! Should she flee back to military life for a desk job and single parenthood? Or give thanks for this unexpected family?

“You’re carrying my son inside of you. How could you not be a challenge? But you’re still sexy as hell.”

Edie swore quietly.

“Sorry,” Seth said. “If you don’t like peeks inside my head, don’t ask.”

She faced him then. “You know, Seth Hardin, you’re driving me nuts. We can’t have a discussion like this on a public street.”

He pointed. “Half a block that way.”

She started marching quick time, looking for all the world as if she were on parade, back stiff, strides even and firm. He kept up without difficulty.

“Don’t get breathless,” he said.

“Oh, shut up.”

He almost grinned. No more eggshells, at least for now. The gloves were off.

Conard County: The Next Generation

Dear Reader,

For many, many years now I’ve been asked to write a full book for Seth Hardin. He first appeared in Point of No Return a very long time ago and even though he had a romance as a secondary character in a Conard County single title, then another in a Christmas novella, I still get a lot of requests.

It tickles me that so many readers wanted him to have his own book, but achieving that had become difficult. When I wrote his first romance with Darlene, I had no idea how many readers wanted him to have his own book. After that, the requests started to come in and I did the novella. Well, here we are two marriages down the road and the requests still come regularly. I had to find a way to work around that, but I finally did.

So here it is, Seth Hardin as the hero in his own book. I hope you enjoy what ensues after he has a one-night stand with an air force pilot in Afghanistan. Things get complicated quickly, but love is rarely easy, especially with an unexpected baby on the way.

Hugs,

Rachel

Thanksgiving Daddy

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEEwas hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

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To my babies, all grown now. I’m so proud of you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Prologue

Flying with the air force combat search and rescue team had given Major Edith Clapton nerves of steel. At least when she was in the middle of all hell breaking loose. This op had been like many other ops, flying into enemy territory to pull out a recon unit, this time a group of navy SEALs. She didn’t want to know their mission. None of her business. Her job was to fly that Pave Hawk helicopter in and pull them out no matter how dangerous it became.

This time there had been gunfire and rocket-propelled grenades, enough to put her teeth on edge, especially during the part where she had to hover over a cliff top that simply didn’t seem big enough, getting far closer than she would have liked, given her rotors.

It had been close, but there had been wounded in the team she was picking up, one of whom needed a litter, and under fire there was no way she could use a rope lift. They needed to be in and out as fast as possible, with minimal exposure to those attackers on the surrounding mountains.

So trying to hover while nearly scraping the ground of a nearby cliff, holding perfectly still while fire came her way...well, it might take some time to calm down completely. The nerves of steel that helped her on missions never failed to desert her back at the base.

After showering, she headed to the officers’ club, looking for a good meal and an illicit drink or two. Illicit because legally no alcohol was allowed in Afghanistan, but somehow it made its way in to the bases anyway.

She drank only after a mission, and only a couple of drinks. There were too many others around her to remind her that alcohol could become a crutch. She didn’t want any crutches, but she did want to wind down. Every nerve and muscle in her body seemed to be shrieking.

She nodded to the people she knew, which was nearly every officer at this base, and found herself a rickety table in the corner. They were supposedly at the rear of all the fighting, but that could change at any moment. In the meantime, this clone of the U.S. tried to pass for normal, with hurriedly built structures, a few fast-food joints and an exchange.

It didn’t quite deceive anyone, but it was sure better than some of the firebases she had seen. For some, spending time here almost amounted to a vacation.

She saw the SEAL team walk in just as she was being served a steak. Yeah, a real steak. It hardly seemed fair when so many of her fellow troops would be dining on barely warmed freeze-dried rations tonight. It was, however, one of the perks of being stationed at a permanent base. Well, semipermanent. She let the politics of it all fly by her.

She was on her second drink and halfway through her steak when one of the SEALs she had rescued pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

“Mind?” he asked.

“We’re not supposed to hang,” she reminded him. Like many of his type, he seemed to be all hard angles and planes encased in muscle. Short dark hair, brown eyes that held flecks of green. Just sitting there, he looked dangerous.

“No one knows you pulled us out today. Besides, if we can’t trust the people in this room, who can we trust?” He stuck out his hand. “Seth Hardin.”

She shook it, taking in the subdued captain’s eagle, which was stitched into the collar of his camouflage uniform. His rank was the naval equivalent of the air force’s colonel. “Edith Clapton.”

“That was some flying job you did out there,” he said.

“Thanks. Your guys okay?”

“One just got winged. We’re still waiting to hear about the other. Your medics probably saved his life.”

That was the other part of the job: she extracted, but in the rear of her helicopter she carried the bare bones of an emergency medical team when it was needed. Today it had been needed. They’d done some stripping in the cabin to make room. “That’s what we do.”