Four months later in Seattle, Washington
The damn phone was ringing off the hook. Jayde ran for it, spilling paint all over the tarp she’d placed on the floor. “Shit,” she swore as she jumped the last can and jerked the phone up. “Hello?” she yelled over Nelly’s music that blared throughout her apartment.
A deep voice came through the receiver and nearly brought her to her knees. “Jayde?” She couldn’t re-spond and so the voice spoke again. “Jayde? Are you there?”
Tyson. After all this time. And he sounded good; in fact, he sounded delicious. “Yes,” she croaked only to clear her throat and try again. “Yes, I’m here.”
“Do you know who this is?” that sinful voice asked.
“I believe so.” Like she could ever forget the raw sexual desire his voice stirred in her. There was loud noise in the background. Music and people shouting back and forth, it sounded almost like he was in a bar. “What do you want, Tyson?”
“To talk. I’m in town. Can you meet me for dinner somewhere? Or I could bring something to your place,” Tyson answered.
Please come here and make love to me. “Actually I am really busy today and I have a dinner function this evening. Maybe some other time?” She just wasn’t strong enough to face him and hear him tell her about Carrie. What is he doing in Seattle? There isn’t a base here.
****
Tyson knew she was deliberately avoiding him. He also knew she hadn’t touched the money he’d sent to her account.
When he’d finally regained consciousness, Tyson had been at Bethesda Naval Hospital. He’d been se-verely dehydrated and mildly poisoned by the bullet in his shoulder. The doctor had told him whoever had taken the bullet out had saved his life.
Yes, she had. Tyson had waited anxiously for Jayde to visit him. That had never happened. Carrie had, his teammates had, but not Jayde, never Jayde. He’d also told the counterterrorism unit’s representative about the rebel camp he had found and she’d said they would take care of it.
The day he’d checked out the hospital, Scott had taken him back to his studio in Georgetown. Tyson had been packing his things and opened the top drawer. The ring he’d placed on her finger in Belize…lay inside.
“She heard you call for Carrie, you know,” Scott had told him as he’d lovingly and painfully put the ring in his duffel bag.
“I don’t want, Carrie,” Tyson had said without looking up. “I just want my wife back.”
“Let’s get you home, Cade. Come on.”
Once again a full-fledged member of SEAL Team Seventeen, Tyson had returned to missions, and do-ing what he loved. But the men would notice him staring off into space during down times or looking at the ring he wore around his neck, which matched the one he still wore on his finger when the situation would allow him to wear it.
Now they were docked in Bremerton, WA on one of the submarines stationed there. Tyson took the hour ferry ride to Seattle and called her from a bar along the waterfront, not passing up the opportunity to see her after all these months. He knew exactly where her apartment was but wanted her to invite him. But now that he heard her evasion tactics, he didn’t care. He was going to see her. Today.
****
Jayde stared at the phone in her hand. Her whole body felt like it was on pins and needles just from that short conversation. It took a bit before the pounding beat of Nelly broke through her trance.
An hour later, she was rinsing out the paint roller in her sink. The last wall had been painted, and the place was finally beginning to feel like home. As she set the brushes and rollers in the other sink to dry, she heard a knock on the door.
“Coming,” she yelled over the music. Jayde stopped to pick up her paint rag and dried her hands as she headed for the door. She didn’t look through the peephole because she was expecting a package.
She opened the door widely and froze. Instead of the deliveryman, there stood Tyson Randolph Kin-cade. He leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe and in his hand was a bag with rich aromas coming from it.
He looked awesome. His face was once again clean-shaven and his skin was tanned just like she re-membered it; only now, his hair was cut short, highlighting his facial features. Hazel eyes sparkled with amusement and more than a bit of passion. “Hello, Jayde,” he murmured seductively as he pushed his way into the apartment. “I brought you some food since you are apparently too busy to eat with me.”
Jayde watched him walked over to her kitchen table and set the bag down on it. He wore a pair of blue jeans, hiking boots, and a white T-shirt that accentuated his tanned skin and lean muscles. His clothing highlighted every beautiful inch of his body.
As if oblivious to her shock, he rummaged through her kitchen and found plates and silverware, then transferred the food to the dishes and gestured her over. “Jayde, come eat.” He pulled out a chair and waited for her to take it.
Slowly, she walked towards him, stopping to pick up the remote for the stereo and turned down the music so it was just a faint hum. “What are you doing here?” she asked and slid into the chair. Why am I reacting this way to you? You wanted Carrie!
“I said we needed to talk.” He pushed her chair in.
“And I said I was busy today,” she countered, her dark eyes following him around the table to the other side where he sat.
“Well, I am not in town for very long,” he said, then winced.
“I see,” Jayde responded in an insipid tone. Either Carrie or another mission. Jayde was determined not to appear interested.
“How are you doing?” he questioned as he dug into his steak.
“Good. I really like it here. I work with an art dealer in a gallery and have started to sell some of my paintings.” She cut her grilled salmon. “Salmon, you remembered what I ate.”
“I remember everything about you, my little rose.” His eyes darkened possessively for a moment.
Jayde had to swallow a few times before she could speak to him. “You seem to have recovered well. How are you doing?”
“Physically, I am doing well. Healed up. The doc said you did an awesome job of removing the bullet,” Tyson said, gratefully.
Physically? What did that mean? “Glad you are doing well,” Jayde admitted honestly.
“Why didn’t you contact me?” he asked as he ate some asparagus.
“What for? Why would I contact you?” At his raised eyebrows she added, “I wasn’t pregnant so there was no reason to.” She paused, deliberately ignoring the storm clouds brewing in his eyes. “But since you are here, thanks for getting this place for me. I really love it.”
“What the hell do you mean ‘no reason to’? Were you even curious about how I was doing?” He stopped eating and waited for her answer.
He was hurt. Jayde saw that now. “Of course I was! Tyson, you had just about lost your life to save mine; why wouldn’t I be curious about how you were doing?”
“I never saw you there at the hospital.” His eyes challenged her.
“I’ll admit I didn’t go. But,” she said as he leaned back and crossed his strong arms across his chest, “when I last saw you on the carrier, before they put me in the COD…you were calling out for Carrie.” Shock and disbelief passed over his face. “I figured if you did want someone there, it would be her.”
Tyson shook his head in denial, but she continued, “I heard you and Scott that day in the safe house…when y’all thought I was in the shower. I was listening at the door. You remember, don’t you?”
At first confusion filled his features, then dawning realization. “Yes, I remember. I can explain that—”
“That’s the thing, Tyson…you don’t owe me any explanations.” Jayde cut another piece of salmon. She put the fish in her mouth and chewed slowly so she didn’t have to talk. Dear Lord, why didn’t anyone say love was this painful?
“Yes, I do.” Tyson took a drink of the wine they were having with their meal. “We are still married.”
Jayde had been in the process of putting another bite in her mouth when he’d said that, causing her to pull it away and set it on the plate. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him. “What are you talking about?” Jayde asked in shock.
“We,” he began and moved one lean finger between them, “we are still married.”
Her face began to lose its color. “No…no, we can’t be married. That was a sham wedding. I’m not even Catholic.” Tyson stared at her solemnly. “Wasn’t it?” Jayde asked, her voice rising an octave.
“No. It was real and legal. They bribed the Father to do the ceremony sure but it’s legal and binding.” He put his left hand across the table and Jayde saw the ring was still on his finger.
“No, it wasn’t even in the States!” She was rambling and didn’t care because she knew it didn’t matter if it was in the United States or not.
“It’s real.” Tyson reached around his neck and pulled off the chain he wore. Opening the clasp, he re-moved a band from it and went to where Jayde sat dumbfounded. With the utmost care, he picked up her left hand and easily slid the ring back on her finger. “This is where it belongs.”
Funny, when he slipped the ring back on her finger, Jayde felt a sense of peace that had been missing ever since she’d taken it off. “Where did you get these rings?” she asked, truly curious.
“From an old sangoma in Africa.” Tyson nodded at her look of disbelief. “No, really. We came to his village and saved them from the rebels; afterwards, I was in his hut and he gave them to me and said, ‘Keep them with you and the woman you are meant to be with will find you. . The rings will save you and bind the two of you together for all eternity.'” Tyson cupped her face in his hand, “And when this ring is on your finger, Jayde, it’s right. I know it is. I feel it. We are supposed to be together, for eternity.”
“I can’t be married,” she muttered, unsure of what else to say, for his words affected her more than she thought they would.
Tyson tipped her face up to meet his gaze. “Why not?” His brows furrowed. “Are you seeing someone?” His tone dropped one hundred degrees in a matter of seconds.