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that pent-up anger at Zach.
    How could he tempt her with thoughts of what it would be like to share responsibilities with someone again? To trust someone again—even if only with friendship?
    She didn't dare think about the desire to touch him in a way that had nothing to do with friendship.
    "Zach," she said his name, trying to ignore the thrill of it tripping off her tongue. "Please don't take this the wrong way, because I do think of you as a friend. One who's become too important. You have to go.
    We'll work something out later for the girls to see the baby like I promised, but you have to stop coming here."
    "Damn it, Julia," he sighed with uncharacteristic impatience. "You can't do everything alone."
    "I'm not." Already, his stoic face tugged at her. "My parents are coming for a couple of weeks. My friend Lori's flying in for another."
    She scrambled for a persuasive reason to give him for why she would accept help from others, but not him. Her eyes landed on Lance's picture, providing her with an excuse not far from the truth. "It hurts too much having you around. Even without the flight suit or rank, there's no mistaking who you are. You're the Colonel. You carry yourself with the bearing of an Air Force officer. You walk with the confidence—
    hell the cockiness—of a jet jock, and I can't take the reminders right now."
    Waiting for him to speak, she wondered if he might scavenge an argument that could sway her. Did she want him to? "It's not you. It's what you represent that I can't be around."
    He took a barely discernable step back. But from a man who shared little of his feelings the gesture relayed bucketsful of how she'd rattled him. Forcing him out of her life hurt more than she expected.
    Zach began shaking his head, and Julia braced herself for an argument from a man who could convince troops to follow him into hell.
    His cell phone chirped in his back pocket.
    As if in response, the military radio blared from the porch through the open door.
    For once, Zach didn't bolt to answer.
    "Shouldn't you—"
    "That's why they make caller ID," he assured her, maybe trying to assure himself as well. He cricked his neck to the side until his shoulders lowered. "All right. I have to respect your decision, but you have to respect where I'm coming from too. You've been there for my girls, and I want to be there for this little guy. There's no shame in a new mother asking for help."
    Zach smoothed a hand along Patrick's back. His hand continued up to palm her cheek. "Just know you can call me. Anytime. Anywhere. For anything."
    She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did he have to pick now to use those words?
    With her eyes closed, her senses heightened, betraying her resolve. Zach's callused skin against her cheek reminded her of unsanded oak, rough, natural. Strong.
    Just as she weakened, ready to tip her face into the sheltering heat, into the power and strength of his touch, his hand fell away.
    The heat lingered.
    Her eyes drifted open. He reached for his phone as he turned to the door, military bearing ingrained in his stride.
    Once the door clicked behind him, she allowed herself to move. To breathe.
    Swaying from side to side to soothe her baby and perhaps steal a little of that comfort for herself, Julia listened to Zach's truck growl out of her driveway. A part of her grieved over ordering him to leave.
    Another part of her realized that grief and separation would be short-lived.
    "Well, Patrick," she whispered in his tiny shell ear. "I may not have known he climbed oil rigs as a kid.
    But I've learned more than a little about Zach Dawson during the past eight months."
    As good as the man was at giving orders, he could be really rotten at following them.
    * * *
    "That's an order, Lieutenant," Zach barked over the headset to the copilot, his hand steady as he flew the C-17, in spite of his irritation.
    Not anger, he reassured himself. Just irritation. Six weeks worth of pent-up irritation building since he'd left