Her Kind of Man: Navy Husband / A Man Apart / Second-Chance Hero. Debbie Macomber

procedure as well as she did.

      Ali carefully peeled back the bandage to check for any sign of infection. With the tips of her fingers she gently tested the area while the commander stared impatiently at the ceiling.

      “This is healing nicely,” she assured him.

      “Then let me get back to work.”

      “It isn’t my decision.”

      He sounded as if he was grinding his teeth in frustration.

      “I can’t stand wasting time like this,” he growled.

      “Can I help in some way?” she asked, thinking she could find him a book or a deck of cards.

      “Yes,” he shouted, “you can get me out of here!”

      “You know I can’t do that,” she said reasonably. “Only a physician can discharge you.”

      “I’ve got to do something before I go stir-crazy.” He grimaced with pain as he attempted to sit up.

      “Commander, you’re not helping matters.”

      He glared at her as though she was personally responsible for this torture. “Just go. Get out of my sight. I don’t want you around anymore, understand?”

      She hesitated. “I’m responsible for your care.”

      “Get someone else.”

      “Commander,” she tried again, but he cut her off.

      “Get out!” He pointed at her. “And that’s an order.”

      Alison swallowed down the hurt as she walked out of his cubicle. His words, harsh and vindictive, rang in her ears during the rest of her shift. He didn’t want her anywhere near him and he wasn’t afraid to say so. Her stomach twisted in a knot, and she felt like a fool for having made assumptions about mutual feelings that obviously didn’t exist. Not on his part, anyway.

      She didn’t blame Frank for wanting to be back on duty, but he’d taken all his resentment and anger out on her. That wasn’t fair, and it added to the hurt Alison felt.

      Silently she watched as the corpsman delivered his dinner tray. Dillon glanced at her, then turned away, as if he found the sight of her repugnant.

      Thirty minutes later, when she walked past, she noticed that he’d barely touched his meal. She considered reminding him that he’d need his strength, but he wouldn’t want to hear it. And she wasn’t willing to risk another tongue-lashing.

      Twice more during the course of her shift, Ali resisted the urge to check on him. Frank had been very explicit about the fact that he didn’t want her company.

      When she’d finished, she returned to her quarters and curled up on her bed. After her shift she usually wrote Jazmine and her sister, but not tonight. Instead she reviewed the conversation with Frank.

      She told herself it was silly to have her feelings hurt by his rudeness, that he didn’t mean it, but she couldn’t help taking it personally. Earlier she’d always shrugged off his abrasive manner, and she couldn’t understand why today was so different. Probably because she’d let her attraction to him get out of hand.

      Ali wouldn’t be surprised if he was released the next morning, which was just as well. In a little more than four months, she reminded herself, she’d be home with her daughter and soon after that she’d be a civilian. This was an unsettling thought because Ali loved the Navy, but her resignation was necessary. Jazmine needed her, and Alison had given the Navy all she had to give, including her husband.

      As she’d suspected, Commander Dillon was released the following morning. Alison hated that his last words to her had been spoken in anger, but she tried to forget it. She wished him good health, but he was out of her life now, and it was unlikely they’d see each other again. Perhaps in another time or place they might have made a relationship work. But not here and not now.

      Of more interest was the romance developing between her sister and Adam Kennedy, and as soon as she could, Alison logged on to the computer to check her e-mail. She could count on hearing from Jazmine at least once a day.

      To her delight, there was an e-mail from Adam, too, but as she read it, her pleasure quickly evaporated. Adam feared that now his shoulder had healed, he was about to be transferred. He’d told Shana, but didn’t have the heart to mention it to Jazmine until he got his papers. Almost in passing, he added how much he’d enjoyed getting to know Shana.

      This was dreadful! Jazmine would be devastated if Adam was transferred out of the area, and she wasn’t the only one. Shana was going to be just as disappointed.

      With a heavy heart she read her daughter’s chatty e-mail next.

      Sent: June 30

      From: [email protected]

      To: [email protected]

      Subject: Update—sort of

      Hi Mom,

      Aunt Shana said we could plant a garden! She said we could grow vegetables and flowers. I don’t want to plant green beans because then I might have to eat them. Zucchini would be all right, though. Will you give Aunt Shana your recipe for baked zucchini? Tell her to add more cheese than what the recipe calls for, okay? You had a good recipe for green peppers, too, didn’t you? I could even eat those raw, but I like them better stuffed.

      I think a garden will be lots of fun, don’t you? Uncle Adam said he’d help. Isn’t that great?

      See you soon.

      Love, Jazmine

      Alison didn’t know where Shana would find time to start a garden. As it was, her sister worked from dawn to dusk, but the plans for this latest project showed her how hard Shana was trying with Jazmine. Somehow, the two of them had managed to talk Adam into helping. How much he could do was questionable, since he couldn’t risk damaging his shoulder again, but he seemed a willing participant.

      The last e-mail came from onboard ship. Not until she opened it did she see that it was from Commander Dillon. Ali stared at his name for a moment before she read his message. Five words said it all. Thank you for your excellent care. Commander Frank Dillon.

      “No,” she whispered. “Thank you, Commander.” She had much to be grateful for. Because even if this was as far as it went, Frank had shown her that her heart was still alive.

      Sheer weakness had prompted him to send Alison Karas that e-mail, Frank thought as he returned to his stateroom at the end of his shift. Frank was not a weak man, and he was irritated with himself for more reasons than he wanted to count.

      He knew he wasn’t a good patient. He just couldn’t tolerate lying around in bed all day. He wanted to be back on the job, doing what he enjoyed most, contributing his skills where they were needed. If his appendix was going to give out on him, he would’ve preferred it to happen while they were in port.

      The worst part of his ordeal wasn’t his ruptured appendix and the subsequent surgery. That he’d come through with only minor difficulties. But he wasn’t sure he would survive Lieutenant Commander Karas. After all these years on his own, without female companionship, committed to the Navy, he was finally attracted to a woman. Strongly attracted. She invaded his dreams and haunted his waking moments. Every day for damn near a week she’d been at his bedside.

      He didn’t like it. Just when his mind had started to clear and his system was free of those drugs they’d given him, he saw something he hadn’t noticed earlier. Her wedding ring. It shook him.

      That first time they met, Alison Karas hadn’t denied being married and she’d worn a wedding ring—on her left hand. He stared at the computer screen. Married.

      He’d forgotten about it until this week. Then, when he’d remembered—and realized he was fantasizing about a married woman—he’d lost it. Even worse, she’d moved the ring to her right hand.