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      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Karen Foley admits to being an incurable romantic. When she’s not working for the Department of Defense, she loves writing sexy stories about military heroes and heroines. Karen lives in New England with her husband, two daughters and a houseful of pets. She loves to hear from her readers, and you can visit her at www.karenefoley.com.

      For my girls, who want to write.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Epilogue

      1

      Nothing good ever happens after midnight.

      At least, that’s what her mother always said, and Sara Sinclair was inclined to believe her. Glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, she saw it was just twenty minutes before that fateful hour. And for the last few miles, she’d been following a sports car along a dark stretch of country road, keeping a safe distance as it careened crazily from one side of the road to the other, narrowly missing the guardrails. She had no trouble believing the driver was drunk, but the amorous attentions of his female passenger were probably more to blame for his erratic driving—Sara watched as the woman’s head bobbed over the driver’s lap, popping up briefly before disappearing again below the dashboard.

      She gave a snort of disgust, and reached for her cell phone to call the local police. The driver was fortunate that he hadn’t caused an accident on the winding road. At any other time, she might have found the lovebirds amusing, but not tonight. All she wanted was to get home, strip out of the confining evening gown she wore, and curl up with a warm blanket and a mug of hot chocolate. A mere six hours ago, she’d been vibrating with suppressed excitement at the prospect of attending the annual Charity Works Dream Ball, a $750-per-plate black-tie dinner to raise money for injured marines. But now that it was over, she felt empty and disappointed. Not with the event, but with herself.

      Someday, she’d learn to be more assertive and speak her mind, instead of worrying about what others might think. She chanted the mantra silently: Be more assertive.

      The glittering charity ball was one of the most-attended social events of the autumn season in Washington, D.C. Sara had been thrilled when her senior editor had invited her to go, especially since she was only a junior contributor on the writing staff of American Man magazine. She spent hours debating what to wear, fantasizing about what adventures the evening might hold. But try as she might, she couldn’t figure out why she had been selected to attend the prestigious event, rather than one of the senior writers. Even when the guest of honor had stood up to speak, she hadn’t clued in.

      Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Rafe Delgado had been dazzling in his formal dress blues, and Sara hadn’t been the only woman in the ballroom unable to tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders and sinfully handsome face. The man was simply stunning, and his voice could only be described as intoxicating, like dark, smooth whiskey…

      “That’s the guy I want you to interview,” her editor whispered in her ear. “I’ll introduce you after the speeches are over. Delgado is a bona fide hero, and I’m counting on you to get an exclusive interview with him for the magazine.”

      Sara turned to her editor with disbelieving eyes. “Because he supports a charity that benefits his Marine Corps brothers?” She arched an eyebrow. “It’s noble, but I wouldn’t call it heroic.”

      American Man magazine featured stories about prominent and powerful men across the country, and while Sara had interviewed men from all walks of life, she’d never been asked to do a story on a guy simply because he’d supported a good cause. Not unless he’d backed that good cause with millions of his own hard-earned dollars, and Sara was pretty sure that kind of contribution was way above a gunnery sergeant’s pay grade.

      The older woman gave Sara a tolerant look. “For someone who claims to be a journalist, you’re remarkably uninformed. Sergeant Delgado is the