She knew that no matter how she wished things were different between them, Hunter would never stay with her. Even if he actually loved her-which he didn’t-he still wouldn’t stay. He was a SEAL, and she doubted that would ever change.

And just who was Gretchen?

A few days later, Hunter was feeling just as itchy as he had when his team members had visited. He felt as though he should be doing something, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what. He worked out at the local gym, did his morning runs down country roads and in general tried to get back into shape for his return to duty.

But through all of it, a different kind of duty kept rearing its head, demanding he take notice. Over the last few years, when he’d come home to see Simon, he’d made fast visits, in and out and back to base. But this time, with his medical leave and Simon’s precarious health and Margie, the visit had been a longer one. Long enough to remind Hunter that there was a world outside the Navy, that there were other duties every bit as important as the one he owed to his country.

And Hunter was having a hard time reconciling what he wanted to do with what he knew he should do.

“Hunter. Good. I was looking for you.” Simon walked into the study, and his steps were slow and careful.

Hunter stood up to help, but the older man irritably waved him off. “I’m not helpless yet,” he muttered, walking around the edge of the desk to pull out the bottom drawer.

His heart fisting in his chest, Hunter watched his grandfather and tried to tell himself that despite appearances, the old man was as tough as any SEAL recruit. There was steel in that old man’s bones, he thought with pride. But even as he thought it, he knew that his grandfather wasn’t as strong as he’d once been. That the years had taken a toll that Hunter had never allowed himself to notice before now.

Had he really been so selfishly determined to live his own life on his own terms that he’d avoided noticing how much Simon needed help? Was he really ready to turn his back on his grandfather? After all the elderly man had been to him? What the hell kind of man would that make him? Choose duty to country over duty to family?

Shaking his head, Hunter pushed away the thoughts crowding his mind, because he didn’t have any answers. Instead, he concentrated on what his grandfather was doing. In the bottom drawer there were dozens of files, neatly arranged. While Hunter watched, Simon quickly thumbed through them all until he found the one he wanted. Then he set the file onto the desk and flipped it open. “I want you to look these over and sign them before you go.”

Hunter lifted one eyebrow. “Getting me another wife?” he asked wryly.

“Wouldn’t waste my time,” Simon snapped. “You don’t have the sense to appreciate the one I already got you.”

The hell of it was, Hunter did appreciate Margie. Too damn much.

“Simon…”

“I’m not here to talk about Margie, boy. This is something else.”

“What?” Wariness crept into his tone. Lamplight speared up from the desk, illuminating Simon’s face from beneath, giving the older man an almost eerie look. Shadows crept over his eyes, and every line and crevice on his face was deeply defined.

Simon straightened up, looked his grandson square in the eye and said, “I’m turning over the family business to you.”

“Damn it, Simon,” Hunter said, lifting both hands as if to ward the other man off. “Even if I wanted to take over, I’ve got seven more months on my enlistment. I won’t be here.”

“You can do most of the work through power of attorney, and I can keep an eye on things until you come back.”

Hunter stood up, moved away from the desk and walked to the wide window that overlooked the acre of tidy green lawn and perfect flower beds. A colorful sunset was spreading across the sky and lengthening shadows from the row of trees at the edge of the yard. The road was lying beyond those trees, the road Hunter had taken so long ago when he’d made his bid for freedom. Strange now that the same road had brought him back. And wasn’t he turning into a damn philosopher all of a sudden?

“That is,” Simon added, “if you plan on coming back.”

Hunter threw the older man a look over his shoulder and saw the expectation, the damn hope shining in his eyes even in the dim light of the study. And Hunter knew he couldn’t fight it anymore. Knew that the only way he’d ever be able to live with himself was to accept the duty that had been waiting for him since childhood.

He knew too, at some deep-seated level, that this is how it was meant to be all along, what he’d been headed toward all his life, despite his attempt to avoid it. Maybe, he told himself, he’d had to go away to see where he really belonged.

“I’ll come back, Simon.”

A delighted smile creased his grandfather’s face, and for one brief moment Hunter actually did feel like the hero he’d always wanted to be. Then reality crashed down. If he was going to be leaving the SEAL and coming home to stay, there were plans to set in motion, decisions to make. And he had to talk to Margie, he told himself.

The old man clapped his hands together and scrubbed his palms against each other. “I knew you’d do the right thing, boy. Eventually.”

A wry smile curved Hunter’s mouth. “Thanks. I think.” Then he shoved one hand across the top of his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I still have to go back to the base at the end of the month.”

“Understood.”

Hunter nodded, turned to face Simon and pulled in a deep breath. Finally, the tension in his chest had loosened. For days now he’d been torn about what to do. Questioning his own loyalties, feeling the tug of home and duty fighting with the call to return to the life he’d built. He’d been engaged in a silent battle within himself, and now that a decision had been made, he could breathe easy.

Yes, it would be hard leaving the Navy, but he was needed here. And, as he felt a slight twinge in his side, he reminded himself that he’d been thinking about the possibility of retirement ever since he’d been shot. So, maybe this was how it was supposed to be.

“What about Margie?”

Hunter focused on his grandfather. “What about her?”

“Well,” Simon said, “if you’re going to stay, there’s no reason for her to go either, is there? You’re already married. And I’ve seen the way you look at her, boy. I’m old, not blind.”

He hadn’t had time to consider all the options here. He’d just this minute decided to retire, for God’s sake. It’s not as if he’d thought everything through. But now that he did think about it, he wondered if Simon wasn’t right. But, “We agreed to divorce.”

“Damn hardheaded-”

Hunter wasn’t willing to budge. He’d make up his own mind about Margie-without well-meant interference. “Simon, don’t push it. Whatever happens between me and Margie is up to us, not you.”

“She makes you happy, Hunter. Or hadn’t you noticed that?”

Happy. With a wife he hadn’t chosen. With a wife he’d suspected for too long was nothing more than a scam artist out for whatever she could finagle out of a lonely old man.

With a woman who set him on fire with a touch.

But damned if he’d let his grandfather run his personal life, too. “You can’t screw with people’s lives, Simon. You can’t arrange everything the way you want it.”

“Don’t see why not, when I can see perfectly clear what should happen,” Simon muttered.

“Because you don’t get to decide my life, Grandfather. And you sure as hell don’t get to decide Margie’s.” He loved the elderly man, but damned if he’d fall into line just because Simon demanded it. And if this was a sign of how things were going to be once he came home and took over the family business at last, then they were in for quite a few battles.

So, Hunter decided, it was best to stand his ground right from the get-go. “Back off of this, Grandfather.”

“You look me in the eye and tell me you don’t care for that girl,” Simon challenged.

Well, that was the trouble, Hunter thought, as he deliberately looked away. He didn’t know what the hell he was feeling at the moment.

Nine

After leaving his grandfather, Hunter immediately made the phone call he never would have believed he’d be making. Punching in the numbers from memory, he dialed JT’s cell phone and waited in the garden while it rang.

“Thorne,” the voice on the other end of the line suddenly snapped.

“Boss, it’s Hunt.” Hunter stared up at the cloudswept sky, tipped his face into an ocean breeze and closed his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. What’s up?”

What isn’t? Hunter took a breath, opened his eyes and stared out at the broad expanse of lawn and garden. This was his home. And though he’d avoided the knowledge for years, this was his place.

“I wanted you to know,” Hunter said, his voice ringing with the steel and strength of his conviction in the decision he’d made, “I’ll be coming back to base, but when my enlistment’s up, I’m going to be leaving the team.”

There was a long pause and then a soft laugh. “If you’re waiting for me to be surprised, don’t bother,” JT said at last.

Hunter laughed then, a short, sharp bark of sound. “Well hell, boss. It surprises me.”

“It shouldn’t, Hunt. You’ve got a life to go back to now. That wife of yours deserves better than a parttime husband.”

Margie. She was a part of this decision, no doubt. How big a part was something Hunter hadn’t let himself figure out yet.

“Yeah, I guess she does,” he said because it was easy and it was a reason JT would understand. “Look, I don’t like leaving the team in the lurch, so I wanted you to know so you could start looking into my replacement.”