Free February Lover by Rebecca Royce Page B

you to have done. You’re a doctor, an army surgeon. You saved all those kids in that village.”
    She’d heard. His cheeks heated. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask him much about it. The day remained mostly a blur, thanks to caffeine and the adrenaline fueling those moments. People didn’t want to hear I’m not sure as an answer. They wanted details. He hated having to give them out.
    Stacey continued talking. “Your leaving turned out to be a really good thing for me, too.”
    A pang thudded in his chest. This would be where she told him she’d moved on and married a millionaire, that the sex with said money-pants was better than anything he’d ever given her in his inexperienced youth. The girl he’d fantasized about even when he’d had no right to even keep her in his sexual imagination.
    “It was?” They were pulled over on the side of the road two blocks from his home. He’d never flinched in combat hospitals but all he wanted was to run home before he had to hear what she said.
    “Yes.” She brightened. “I’m a photographer. After Tulane, I went to New York City. I studied, traveled, won a bunch of awards. If you’d stayed here, I would have, too. My career wouldn’t have happened.”
    “Oh.” A photographer. He never would have thought it. Maybe that wasn’t fair. She’d always been artistic. What would have happened if he’d stayed? Would he have encouraged her? What-ifs didn’t matter. He’d gone; she’d apparently done something exceptional.
    “Oh?” She laughed, a loud, hard sound. “That’s all you have to say? Okay, Red. I see you’re as close-mouthed as ever. Let’s get you to your mom’s.”
     
    ***
     
    Relax. Stacey Castle made herself take a deep breath before she took out her frustration on the accelerator. So what if Aidan Roux had returned? She’d known for weeks to expect him.
    She hadn’t meant to run into him on the street. Of course, she could have driven by, and he never would have known. But, no, like always, she’d had to make things more difficult on herself and invite him into the car.
    “I need to ask you something I’ve sort of been playing with since I heard you were coming back.”
    “Go ahead.” Back in the day she’d tried so hard to draw him out, to know what secrets he held to himself when he said so little. She knew whatever they were should probably be left alone. He’d fled the city to leave them behind. “Although I’m not exactly certain what I can do for you.”
    She smiled. “You can pose for a photograph for me.”
    His gaze met hers and held her attention. With his red hair—really strawberry blond in most light—and green eyes, he had his mother’s Irish ancestry written all over him. She shuddered. How could he still be the handsomest man she’d ever seen? Shouldn’t the years of hard work and rough weather have aged him?
    Yet his high, prominent cheekbones and strong cleft-filled chin still made her want to rush over and kiss him everywhere. At seventeen, she would have. Controlling herself would be the name of the game. But, sweet God, he was gorgeous. Her camera would eat him up.
    There was no way they wouldn’t take her entry. Not with Aidan’s stunning face coupled with the story of how he’d saved all those children. She’d had nightmares for weeks when she heard about it. How close to death had he come, pulling all those kids from a raging fire and then treating their wounds with one nurse in the middle of a gun battle?
    She took a deep breath. He sat in her car. He’d lived.
    “You want to take my picture?” He squirmed. “Why?”
    “For a calendar. Photographers from all over the world are sending in entries. A photograph of a hero. And then they’ll select twelve. It’s a very big deal to get your photo in there. A lot of exposure and bragging rights. My biggest competitor tries to get her stuff published by this company all the time. They always say no.”
    “I’m sorry, Stacey.” He spoke very quickly