Honourable Intentions. Catherine Mann

and his friend was gone. That didn’t make Gabrielle available, but it did make her Hank’s obligation.

      Gabrielle angled sideways, adjusting the sling holding her groceries and the canvas sack, to wedge through a cluster of college-aged students in front of the iron gate closing off the outdoor stairs to her apartment. A plastic cup in one guy’s hand sloshed foamy beer down her arm. She jumped back sharply, slamming into another drunken reveler. Gabrielle stepped forward, only to have the guy with the cup block her path again. She held her floral sack closer, fear stamped on her face.

      Instincts still honed from battle shifted into high gear, telling Hank things were escalating in a damn dangerous way. He scowled, shoving forward faster without taking his eyes off her for even a second. The street lamp spotlighted her, her golden hair a shining beacon in the chaos. She pressed herself into a garden nook, but the sidewalk was packed; the noise of the floats so intense that calls for help wouldn’t be heard.

      Hank closed the last two steps between him and the mess unfolding in front of him. He clamped his hand down firmly on the beer-swilling bastard’s shoulder.

      “Let the lady pass.”

      “What the hell?” The drunken jerk stumbled backward, bloodshot eyes unfocused.

      Gabrielle’s gaze zipped to Hank. She gasped. Her emerald-green eyes went wide with recognition as she stared at him. And yeah, he felt an all too familiar snap of awareness inside him every time she crossed his path, the same draw that had tugged him the first time he saw her at a squadron formal.

      One look at her then, in the ice-blue dress, and every cell in his body had shouted, “Mine!” Seconds later, Kevin had joined them, introducing her as the love of his life. Still, those cells in Hank kept on staking their claim on her.

      The guy shrugged off Hank’s hand, alcohol all but oozing from his pores into the night air. “Mind your own business, pal.”

      “Afraid I can’t do that.” Hank slid his arm around Gabrielle’s waist, steeling himself for the soft feel of her against his side. “She’s with me, and it’s time for you to find another spot to watch the parade.”

      The guy’s eyes focused long enough to skim over Hank’s leather flight jacket and apparently decide taking on a trained military guy might not be a wise move. He raised his hands, a glowing neon necklace peeking from the collar of his long-sleeved college tee. “Didn’t know you had prior claim, Major. Sorry.”

      Major? God, it seemed as if yesterday he was a lieutenant, just joining a crew. Okay. He sure felt ancient these days even though he was only thirty-three. “No harm, no foul, as long as you walk away now.”

      “Can do.” The guy nodded, turning back to his pals. “Let’s bounce, dudes.”

      Hank watched until the crowd swallowed the drunken trio, his guard still high as he scanned the hyped-up masses.

      “Hank?” Gabrielle called to him. “How did you find me?”

      The sound of her voice speaking his name wrapped around him like a silken bond. Nothing had changed. He was still totally hooked on her. Bad enough before when she and Kevin had been engaged. But now, one glance at her made memories of his dying friend roil in his gut again.

      He needed to check on Gabrielle as he’d promised Kevin he would, pass along his friend’s final words, then punch out of her life for good.

      “You still live at the same address. Finding you wasn’t detective work,” he said, guiding her toward the iron gateway blocking her outside stairway. His eyes roved over the familiar little garden and wrought-iron table he’d seen for the first time when he’d driven down with Kevin two years ago. Determined to gain control of his feelings, he’d accompanied his bud on a weekend trip to the Big Easy. Pure torture from start to finish. “Let’s go to your place so we can talk.”

      “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you’d returned to the States.” Her light German accent gave her an exotic appeal.

      As if she needed anything else to knock him off balance. Good God, he was a thirty-three-year-old combat veteran, and she had him feeling like a high schooler who’d just seen the new hot chick in class.

      He took in her glinting green eyes, her high cheekbones and delicate chin that gave her face a heartlike appearance. A green canvas purse hung from one shoulder, her floral shopping sack slung over her head, resting on her other hip. The strap stretched across her chest, between her breasts.

      Breasts that were fuller than he remembered.

      Better haul his eyes back upward, pronto. “I’m here for you.”

      The rest could wait until they got inside. He pulled her closer, her grocery sling shifting between them heavily. What the hell did she have in there?

      He slipped a finger under the strap. “Let me carry that for you.”

      “No, thank you.” She covered the sack protectively with both hands, curving around the smooth bulge.

      Smooth? Maybe not groceries, after all. But what?

      Her sack wriggled.

      He looked at the bag again, realization blasting through him. Holy crap. Not a satchel at all. He’d seen his sister Darcy wear one almost exactly like it when her son and daughter were newborns. No question, Gabrielle wore an infant sling.

      And given the little foot kicking free, she had a baby on board.

      As far back as she could remember, Gabrielle had dreamed of being a mom. Her baby dolls had always been the best dressed, well fed and healthiest in her neighborhood.

      Little had she known then how very different her first real stint at motherhood would play out.

      No daddy for her child.

      A sick baby.

      And now an unsettling blast from the past had arrived in the form of Hank Renshaw. Standing in front of her, tall and broad-shouldered, he blocked out the rest of the world. He wore his leather flight jacket in the unseasonably cool night, looking as tall, dark and studly as any movie poster hero.

      She still couldn’t believe he was here.

      Hank.

      No kidding, Major Hank Renshaw, Jr., stood on her street in the middle of Mardi Gras. Only her baby’s doctor’s appointment could have drawn her out into this chaos with her child. If he’d been a few minutes later, would she have missed him?

      She hadn’t seen him since… Her heart stumbled as surely as her feet moments earlier. She hadn’t seen Hank since she’d said goodbye to Kevin the day they’d both deployed from their Louisiana base to the Middle East.

      For some reason, he’d come to visit her now. And no matter how painful it was to think of how she should have been celebrating Kevin’s homecoming, it wasn’t Hank’s fault. She was just tired and emotional. God, she hated feeling needy.

      But oh, my, how the shower-fresh scent of him chased away the nauseating air of beer, sweat and memories. How easy it would be to lean into that strength and protection. How easy—and how very wrong. She had to hold strong. She’d fought long and hard to break free of her family’s smothering protectiveness two years ago, following her dream to study in the States.

      She was a twenty-six-year-old single mom who could and would take care of herself and her son. She didn’t need the distraction or heartbreak of a man, especially not now.

      Although from the horror on his face as he stared at her baby’s foot sticking out of her sling, she shouldn’t have any trouble sending Hank on his way quickly.

      She plastered a smile on her weary face. “Oh, my God, Hank, I can’t believe it’s really you. Let’s step inside out of this craziness so we can hear each other better. When did you get back from overseas? How long have you been here?”

      “I got back to base yesterday,” he answered carefully, his eyes shouting a question of