by Shelley Munro
1941. Britain is at war and under threat from the enemy. Life is fragile and love is more important than ever.
Margo can’t forget Johnnie. A chance meeting brings an opportunity to correct past mistakes, to show him they belong together. Bombs rain down on the city and they take refuge. It’s a night of discovery, of passion and bittersweet love laced with danger and the realization that Johnnie must return to fight the enemy. Margo is thrilled they’ve become lovers, but in the morning old problems resurface and she faces one final test to prove their love is unforgettable.
Margo swallowed, wondering what to say. Johnnie's breathing was soft
and rapid, his masculine scent bringing memories. Good memories. Bad
memories. She shivered violently when the whistle of another bomb
sounded, much closer this time. The continual noise, the screeching
whistles and explosions brought fear stalking. She started at a
particularly loud explosion. Thank goodness she was with Johnnie.
"Are you cold?" Johnnie didn't wait for an answer but sat on the bed
and drew her close, fitting her against his chest and wrapping his
arms around her. She had no idea how he knew where she was but was so
glad of his heat, the strong life-confirming beat of his heart
beneath her cheek. His touch brought hope that they'd survive the
"That better?" he whispered.
Actually, no. It was ten times worse. His breath whispered across her
temple, teasing tendrils of her hair. Margo shivered again and
Johnnie ran his hands up and down her arms. Even through the cloth of
her uniform tiny licks of heat shimmied over her body. His warm hand
cupped her hip. It was intimate, just as she'd dreamed it would be—a
taste of how it would feel when their naked bodies rubbed against
each other. Her breath caught as her nipples drew tight, pressing
painfully against the cups of her brassiere. Prickly heat thrummed
low in her belly and she shifted a fraction, attempting to ease the
tension. Her buttocks tilted back but that wasn't any more
comfortable since something prodded her.
Johnnie groaned. "Keep still," he muttered, grasping her hipbone a
little more tightly and easing away from her at the same time. "Damn,
where is that torch?"
Blood pooled in her cheeks along with enlightenment. "Sorry. I…does
"What kind of question is that? Ah, here it is."
Clear relief tinged his voice. Margo frowned. He didn't want her to
He flicked the torch on, illuminating the interior of the small
shelter. Aside from the bed they were sitting on, which took up much
of the space, there were two wooden chairs. Spare blankets sat in a
tidy pile on top of the closest chair. A bucket sat near the
entrance, no doubt used as an emergency toilet facility. At the far
end a box sat atop a wooden stool. Margo presumed the owners kept a
few basic nonperishable food supplies in there since the outside
advertised shredded wheat. She caught the flicker of relief on
Johnnie's face when he was able to move along the bed to grab the
candles sitting at the far end near the box she thought contained
food. It brought a pang of pain, a cruel twist to her heart.
After they'd announced their engagement, Peter had wanted to take
things further. There was a war on, he had explained. None of them
knew what might happen. Something had made Margo balk at becoming
intimate with Peter. Maybe it was the fact it was the only thing she
had any control over. The speed of their engagement and the ensuing
wedding plans were happening so fast they were making her dizzy. With
Peter, resisting temptation was easy, but now, alone in the shelter
with Johnnie, she wanted to explore, to take liberties of her own.
"I…" Margo trailed off in confusion. She still had feelings for
Johnnie. She could admit it to herself. Although Peter was nice,
spending time with him was more like being with a brother. Half an
hour alone with Johnnie had shown her the difference. Heat pooled in
her face. She wanted to strip off his clothes and explore every inch
of skin revealed.
"No, it doesn't hurt," Johnnie growled. Still sitting, he picked up
the box of matches that sat near the candles. A flame flared bright,
driving away more of the shadows when he lit one of the
candles. "It's uncomfortable, but it's not going to kill me. Any man
who feeds you that line is only after one thing." Johnnie's gritty
voice was full of distaste. Margo sighed. He was an honorable man,
loyal to his friends and honest.
Above them the roar of aircraft and the whistle of falling bombs
continued. "They sound closer, almost overhead." Worry tinged
Johnnie's voice. Concern for her and their situation. It warmed
Margo. Impulsively, she slipped the engagement ring from her finger
and pushed it deep into her pocket. It was something she should have
done long ago.
An explosion sounded nearby, close enough to make the ground shudder.
Terror backed up Margo's throat and with a cry, she closed the
distance between them, burrowing closer to Johnnie's chest, drawing
from his strength.
"It's okay," he murmured, cupping her head with one hand. Tension of
a different kind immediately hit Margo. Going with instinct, she
pressed her lips to his neck. He tasted salty and she caught a hint
of his shaving soap. "Margo." His hand gripped her shoulder painfully
"Why not?" Her voice sounded breathless—in fact, she didn't seem like
herself at all. If they were going to die tonight, at least she'd
Adventure into Romance