Nikki Benjamin - The Major And The Librarian

www.millsandboon.co.uk

was born and raised in the Midwest, but after years in the Houston area, she considers herself a true Texan. Nikki says she’s always been an avid reader—her earliest literary heroines were Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden and Beany Malone. Her writing experience was limited, however, until a friend started penning a novel and encouraged Nikki to do the same. One scene led to another, and soon she was hooked.

When not reading or writing, the author enjoys spending time with her husband and son, doing needlepoint, hiking, biking, horseback riding and sailing.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

“Hey, Sam, how about joining us for a drink at the officers’ club?”

Major Sam Griffin, United States Air Force, glanced at the young lieutenant lounging in his office doorway, arched an eyebrow at the familiarity of his address, then smiled in spite of himself. Billy Fonteneaux was one of the more promising young fighter pilots under his command, and his southern Louisiana charm made it all too easy to forgive the lack of decorum he tended to exhibit during his off-duty hours.

“I might just do that,” Sam replied, then turned back to the stack of mail he had been sorting. “Are you heading over there now?”

“We were on our way when I noticed your light was still on. Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, but if you have other plans already…”

“Actually, I don’t,” Sam admitted with a rueful twist of his lips.

Returning alone to his bachelor quarters to nuke a frozen dinner in the microwave wasn’t exactly the kind of plan Lieutenant Fonteneaux’s teasing tone had implied.

“So what do you say, Major? Have a beer with us, why don’t you?”

“I can’t make any promises,” Sam hedged after a few moment’s consideration. While the prospect of sharing a little lighthearted camaraderie with his junior officers was tempting, he preferred not to commit himself completely. “I have to clear up a few things around here first, then I’ll see how I feel.”

“Good enough, sir.” Satisfied, Billy sketched a jaunty salute, then turned away.

As the lieutenant’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Sam sat back in his chair, the stack of mail he had received that afternoon temporarily forgotten.

There had been a time when he wouldn’t have thought twice about accepting Billy Fonteneaux’s invitation. A time when he’d had a reputation for being the life of the party wherever he happened to be stationed. But that hadn’t been the case for years now—almost four years, to be exact.

At thirty-five, he was still a relatively young man, and he wasn’t tied down by a wife and children. But his younger brother’s death had changed him in ways that were undeniable. Something had died inside him on that late June day as he’d sat on the roadside, cradling Teddy’s lifeless body in his arms.

Don’t go there, Sam warned himself.

There was nothing to be gained by resurrecting the past. What was done was done, and no matter how long he wallowed in his bitter, painful memories, that would never change.

Forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand, Sam sorted through the few remaining envelopes addressed to him. Nothing of any real importance, he noted. Bills from a couple of credit-card companies along with statements for his bank and brokerage accounts that he trusted would assure him he was still financially solvent.

He had hoped there would be a letter from his mother, but he’d quickly seen that there wasn’t. Aside from the postcard she had sent over a month ago while visiting friends in Seattle, he hadn’t heard from her in almost six weeks. Not all that unusual, really, and certainly nothing to be concerned about. Mail from the States to the air base in Italy could sometimes take awhile. And since she’d been away recently, she probably had quite a bit of catching up to do around the house.

Sam supposed he could call, but he was never quite sure what to say to her. Though he had never had reason to doubt his mother’s love for him—quite the contrary, in fact—they had never been close. At least not as close as she and Teddy had been.

Sam had bonded more deeply with his father, perhaps because he and Caleb Griffin had been a lot alike—physically, as well as emotionally. Sam, too, had felt suffocated by life in small-town Serenity, Texas. And he, too, had found a way to leave, although not quite as dramatically or as devastatingly as his father had.

Once again, Sam caught himself venturing into a place he would rather not go. Forcing his thoughts away from the tragedy of his father’s suicide twenty-five years ago, he vowed to write to his mother later that evening. By putting pen to paper, he could maintain the distance he needed and delay calling—

Tossing aside an application for yet another credit card, Sam frowned, then sat back in his chair, his gaze locked on the last envelope in his stack. The handwriting hadn’t been familiar, so his attention hadn’t been caught by it when he’d first glanced through his mail. But now, finally registering the return address, he experienced a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“Emma Dalton, 1209 Bay Leaf Lane, Serenity, Texas.”

Emma…shy, sweet Emma with her wild red curls, her bright green eyes and her lovely, lilting laugh.

She was the last person on the face of the earth Sam Griffin would have ever expected to send him a letter.

For years, she had been his brother’s best friend. And sadly, secretly—for the most part—the only woman Sam had ever wanted. The one woman he could never have. All through high school and college, she had been Teddy’s girl, then his blushing bride-to-be. And then, after he had taken Teddy from her—

I hate you, Sam Griffin. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you….

Reflexively, Sam crushed the envelope in his hand as he saw again the anger and pain flashing in her eyes, heard again the heartrending sobs shaking her slender body as she sank to the floor of the hospital waiting room, her cream silk wedding dress puddling around her.

Why had she chosen to contact him now of all times? The anniversary of Teddy’s death was only a few weeks away. Was it something to do with that? But then, what could she possibly have to say to him after four long years of silence?

Sam wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Emma Dalton was a part of his past—one of the most devastating parts, to be exact. Surely he would be better off if that was what she remained.

What good could possibly come of allowing her to reenter his world? For years, he had done his damnedest to avoid even the mere thought of her. More and more often lately, he’d actually succeeded. Now…this…

He wasn’t fool enough to think Emma’s opinion of him had changed. And he certainly wasn’t masochistic enough to feel he had to endure another round of her reproach. There was nothing she could say to him that he hadn’t already said to himself a thousand times or more.

He would never forget what had happened to Teddy, nor would he ever forgive himself for it. He knew that he deserved Emma Dalton’s animosity. He deserved it in spades. Of that he had never needed a reminder.

But he had finally come to realize all the mea culpas in the world wouldn’t bring his brother back. That understanding, accompanied by acceptance, had gradually eased his anguish.