A Midnight Clear by Emma Barry & Genevieve Turner

waist and pulled her in for a kiss.
    She tasted of coffee and the dessert and herself, the headiest ambrosia he could imagine. He kept it chaste—no trespassing tongue, even if her father couldn’t see—but just the press of her mouth against his, her body enclosed by his, was enough to make his head spin as if he’d downed the entire bottle of scotch he’d given the admiral.
    She curled her fists into the lapels of his jacket and heat bloomed between, pushed the cold night away from the bubble enclosing them. A few more moments. Just a few more. Joe didn’t want to test his luck and get caught kissing her, but he couldn’t let her go. Not yet.
    Never. I never want to let her go. But he had to, eventually.
    Reluctantly, he lifted his mouth and set his forehead to hers, wanting to keep at least some closeness. He nuzzled his nose against hers as he’d imagined the first moment he’d seen her. It was even better than he’d dreamed. “I wish I could do this forever,” he confessed. “But it’s too cold out for you and I have to be up early tomorrow.”
    Her hands tightened on his jacket. “I don’t like the idea of you going on this training cruise.”
    “It’s only a short off-shore training sail. I’ve done a million of them.” But he was touched by her concern. Her almost wifely concern.
    “I feel like the weather is going to shift and in a bad way.” She didn’t want to admit that, he could tell by the stiffness in her tone.
    “Feel the wind changing in your bad leg, huh? You sound like an old sailor.” He kissed her again, tempting fate, but finding he didn’t care. “You don’t kiss like one though.”
    “I don’t want to know how you know that.”
    “From kissing old sailors, of course.” He winked at her. “It gets lonely on these cruises.”
    She laughed, the tension leaving her grip on his lapels. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
    “I’ve done bunches of these. And we’ve got a radio if something really goes wrong. Don’t worry—I’ll be there at our bridge on Tuesday, like we arranged.” He breathed a kiss against her cheek. “You can write in your journal all weekend about how much you miss me.”  
    But she didn’t laugh again—she went deadly earnest. “Promise me you’ll be there. Joe, I don’t…” Her jaw went tight as she gathered herself. “This is what scares me about being with you. One day, you might not come back. There were so many boys who didn’t come back.”
    He rubbed his hand down her back. “The war’s over, sweetheart. And I swear to you, I will always move heaven and earth to come back to you. I’m not your father. You’re not your mother. If you call me, I’ll be by your side. If you want me to be.”
    Here then was the direct declaration he’d wanted to make over dinner. He held his breath as he waited, watching as she absorbed his words.
    “I… I think I do,” she finally said, just as his lungs were beginning to burn.
    He kissed her again, slow, but deep, cradling her face as he did. “Do you really mean it?” It was a small step, but for a woman who’d said she didn’t want to be a Navy wife… by God, to Joe it was everything.
    “Let’s talk about this on Tuesday.” She loosed her hands from his jacket and he took the cue—he released her so she could step back toward the door. “Once you’ve come back.”
    “I’ll be there. I swear. Even if I have to row the boat back myself.”

C HAPTER S IX

    The wind coming off the swells hit Joe in the face, pinching his cheeks and nose with cold. He sucked in a great lungful of salt-tinged air in as he steered the ship, contentment bone deep within him. He’d have to take Frances out sometime, let her experience this. When it was warmer though and the sea was less churlish, of course—Kelsey had hurled over the side this morning, which would have been an embarrassment if he weren’t going into the submarine service.
    “It’s colder than a witch’s tit out here,” Steven