Coming Up for Air
Karen Foley
Major Chance Rawlins has a bit of a reputation, both in and outside the helicopter cockpit.He’s a hotshot and he knows it. But when he enjoys a spontaneously naughty night with Captain Jenna Larson, Chance realises Jenna has no idea who he is – she’s mistaken him for his twin!Still, when they meet again, Chance soon sees an opportunity to show Jenna exactly who he is – one hot, exquisite night at a time.
Dear Reader,
About three years ago, I had the opportunity to sit in the cockpit of a Black Hawk helicopter. With the cyclic stick between my knees and all that powerful technology at my fingertips, I knew I had to create a heroine capable of flying these incredible machines, but also strong enough to hold her own in a male-dominated environment.
Army Captain Jenna Larson is a top-notch Black Hawk pilot, but she’s sworn never to get romantically involved with another pilot, no matter how sexy he might be. But when she catches sight of Major Chase Rawlins, a hard-bodied special ops commando with a killer smile, she decides he’s the one man she wants to see out of uniform and in her bed.
What she doesn’t realise is that it’s not the professional, no-nonsense Chase that she’s been drooling over, but his cocky, devil-may-care twin brother, Chance, an Apache helicopter pilot. Jenna is convinced that she can spend one night with him and then walk away, but their red hot hook-up turns out to be the best sex she’s ever had, and she can’t stop thinking about him.
Chance Rawlins may just be my favorite hero yet! He has all the qualities that make a military hero irresistible, and I hope you find him hard to forget, too! And if you’re wondering about his twin brother … Chase Rawlins will have his own story in September 2012, where he encounters the one woman guaranteed to make him lose control.
Happy reading!
Karen
About the Author
KAREN FOLEY is an incurable romantic. When she’s not working for the Department of Defense, she’s writing sexy romances with strong heroes and happy endings. She lives in Massachusetts with her husband and two daughters, an overgrown puppy, and two very spoiled cats. Karen enjoys hearing from her readers. You can find out more about her by visiting www.karenefoley.com.
More military heroes.More indomitable heroines.One UNIFORMLY HOT! series.
Don’t miss a story in Mills & Boon Blaze’s bestselling miniseries, featuring irresistible soldiers from all branches of the armed forces.
Here is Chance’s thrilling story:
Coming Up for Air by Karen Foley July 2012
And don’t miss his twin brother Chase’s sexy adventure:
No Going Back by Karen Foley Sept 2012
UNIFORMLY HOT!
The Few. The Proud.The Sexy as Hell.
Coming up
for Air
Karen Foley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to my own personal hero,
John Foley, who didn’t have to deploy, but chose
to do so anyway. I’m so proud of you!
1
THE WAY TO TELL IF A man was a good lover was to watch how he danced. Captain Jenna Larson didn’t know if the observation was true, since none of her exes had enjoyed dancing very much. That should have been her first clue, since none of them had been exceptional in bed, either.
A slow country song throbbed through the speakers at Shooters nightclub, and Jenna could feel the seductive pull of it in her veins. Finishing her beer, she set the empty bottle down on the bar. She’d told herself a dozen times since she’d first spotted him that she wasn’t going to look, but her gaze was drawn irresistibly back to the couple moving slowly across the dance floor. Despite the crush of people surrounding them, the man guided his partner effortlessly through the crowd, his hands holding her with an easy confidence.
He moved with a fluid grace, his body shifting and sliding in perfect rhythm to the music while accommodating his partner’s motions. He was lean and fit, the material of his black shirt stretched taut across the thrust of his shoulders. His jeans rode low on his hips and his scuffed cowboy boots lent him extra height. Watching him dance, Jenna had no doubt that he would be exceptional in bed, completely attuned to his partner’s body.
He bent his head to catch something the woman said to him, and then he laughed and drew her closer to the curve of his body, never missing a beat. His teeth were white in his suntanned face and Jenna noted the deep indents in his cheeks when he grinned. As they turned the corner of the dance floor, his gaze slid lazily over the crowd and, for an instant, his eyes met hers and held.
Jenna stared at him over his partner’s head, unable to look away. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so enthralled by a man, military or otherwise. Everything about him commanded her attention, from his built-for-sex body to his lazy, devil-may-care smile. She didn’t know the first thing about him, except that he was in the army, assigned to nearby Fort Bragg, just like ninety-five percent of the men in the club that night.
Jenna had caught glimpses of him several times on the army base, and even from a distance he’d captured her attention. Less than two weeks ago, she’d run into him at the local supermarket. Literally, as she’d turned a corner, she’d collided with his shopping cart. He had smiled at her as she’d apologized, and there had been no mistaking the masculine interest in his eyes. In fact, she’d felt him watching her as she’d walked away, and when she’d surreptitiously glanced back at him, he’d grinned shamelessly, making no effort to hide the fact that he was, indeed, ogling her. The knowledge had made her feel shivery and delicious.
Two days later, she’d bumped into him at the post office. Against her better judgment, she’d opened her mouth to introduce herself, but he’d looked right through her, without a hint of recognition or interest. The complete switch had puzzled her, making her wonder if she’d only imagined the heat she’d seen in his eyes just days earlier.
Now, as she watched him, the corners of his lips lifted and he closed one eye in an audacious wink, before smoothly swinging the woman away to the other side of the floor. Jenna realized she had been holding her breath and she let it out in a rush, signaling to the bartender for another beer. The music came to a stop and she peeked back in time to see him give the woman a brief hug before releasing her to rejoin a group of men shooting pool on the far side of the room.
She gave a snort of disdain as she watched the woman pause on the edge of the dance floor and preen for whoever might still be watching her. wearing too-tight white jeans and a skimpy shirt that exposed her tanned midriff, she was obviously a local. Her long hair was dyed an unnatural shade of red, and she had enough makeup on to qualify as camouflage. But she had a curvy little body, and she smiled at every guy who looked her way, including her dance partner’s pool-shooting buddies.
Jenna covertly watched as his friends welcomed his return with nudges and winks. He took it in stride, but while the other guys looked longingly at the redhead’s ass when she finally sauntered away, he turned and stared directly at Jenna. She paused, her beer halfway to her lips, and then tipped the bottle toward him in a silent salute before taking a long swallow. He smiled, a slow tilting of his mouth that caused his dimples to emerge, then picked up his cue and turned his attention to the pool table.
“Who’re you gawking at?”
Jenna turned to see her copilot and bunk mate, Warrant Officer Laura Costanza, squeeze up to the bar beside her. Together, they had flown three separate training missions during the past twenty-four hours, and had been given the next twenty-four hours off in order to rest and be ready to fly again. Aside from their shared love of flying helicopters, they had little in common, but they’d become close friends in the three years that they’d worked together. Jenna found the other woman’s down-to-earth candor both amusing and refreshing. But Jenna also knew that if Laura discovered she’d been lusting after someone, she’d never hear the end of it.
“Nobody,” she fibbed. “How was your dance?”
“Had my feet stomped on a couple of times.” The younger woman grinned. “No biggie.” She shifted her focus to the men shooting pool. “Ah, let me guess. Major Hottie in the black shirt and boots. He is drool-worthy.”
Jenna shrugged and deliberately turned her back to the dance floor and the pool tables. “He’s okay.”
Laura laughed. “Yeah, right. Like every female in here doesn’t want to jump his bones.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “Sadly, he’s way above my pay grade. You could always go for it, though. Oh, but I almost forgot—you don’t get involved with military guys.” She tipped her head as she pretended to consider. “Why is that again?”
Even Laura didn’t know the real reason that Jenna avoided men in the military. Her father was a highly decorated Vietnam pilot and had taught Jenna how to fly when she was barely a teenager. But while he might be a legend in the military annals, he’d made her mother’s life hell. The same qualities that made him an extraordinary soldier also made him a terrible partner. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the bitter battles that had waged between him and her mom, mostly over his drinking and his numerous affairs. Jenna’s mother would give him an ultimatum, and for a few months he’d actually remain sober. Those were the times that Jenna liked to remember, the long summer days on Cape Cod when she’d help him run his helicopter sightseeing and tour business. She’d logged more flight hours in her teen years than some military pilots did during an entire career. There was no question that her father had been an exceptional flight instructor; he just hadn’t been a great husband or father. But he’d been her role model and the center of her young life, and she would have done anything to make him proud. To make him love her. But nothing she did ever seemed good enough. She gave her friend a tolerant look.
“Because I like to keep my private life just that—private,” she said. “Getting involved with another soldier is asking for trouble. And how can you tell he’s above your pay grade, anyway? Do you know him?”
She and Laura were assigned to a helicopter battalion out of upstate New York, but had been at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, for just over three weeks while they prepared for a six-month deployment to Afghanistan. Their training exercises left little time to socialize or meet other soldiers assigned to the base. The only reason Jenna found herself looking twice at this guy was because she’d been going through a particularly long dry spell. At this point, it didn’t take much to fire her engines.
“Well, I don’t know him,” Laura hedged. “I only know his name is Chase Rawlins. He’s an army major with Special Ops. His unit deploys in a couple of days. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
Jenna glanced over her shoulder at the pool table in time to see him smoothly knock a cue ball into a side pocket. Major Hottie, indeed. She’d pegged him for an enlisted guy, which would have made him off-limits, since fraternization between officers and enlisted members was strictly prohibited. But if he was also an officer … Despite her self-denial regarding men in uniform, she couldn’t prevent the surge of anticipation she felt at learning he was fair game, should she choose to end her abstinence.
There was just one small problem.
“We leave for Afghanistan in three days,” she said glumly. “Even if his unit wasn’t deploying, and even if I was interested, it’s not like I have time to get to know the guy.”
Laura raised her eyebrows and took a sip of beer. “Who says you need to get to know him? You’re a helicopter pilot. You’re genetically predisposed to have meaningless sex.”
Jenna laughed, but acknowledged that, for most of the unmarried pilots in her battalion, that was the truth. It was one of the reasons she avoided dating them. One-night stands and short-lived relationships were an accepted way of life for them. Of course, they were also men. Despite the fact she had achieved equality in the cockpit, distinct double standards still existed. If she slept around as much as some of her male counterparts did, she’d find herself the target of some pretty derogatory comments.
Not that Jenna hadn’t had her share of hookups. She had. Just not in the past eight months. But she always chose men who had nothing to do with the military;
guys whose worlds were so far removed from her own that there was no chance of them colliding. Guys who couldn’t follow her when she returned to base, safe behind the razor-wire fences and security checkpoints.
Of course, that would all change in six months, when both her deployment and her military commitment would end. After a lot of soul-searching, she’d made the decision to get out of the military altogether and return to Cape Cod, where she hoped to help her father run his tour business. He wasn’t getting any younger, and she felt a need to spend time with him, to show him that, although she might not be the son he’d always wished for, she’d done okay.
She’d never even considered hooking up with one of her fellow pilots, as gorgeous and funny as some of them were. Most women would kill for the opportunity to peel one of those hotties out of his flight suit, but not Jenna. She’d seen too many relationships crash and burn within the battalion to make that particular mistake. Plus, most of her male colleagues had egos the size of aircraft carriers. From Jenna’s perspective, it seemed, no matter how much a female pilot might be liked and respected, ultimately she became the competition. Or the attraction eventually waned, and then the two were stuck working together. She’d seen it happen again and again, and the resulting friction created discomfort for the entire unit.
Thanks, but no thanks.
Despite what Laura had said, Jenna wasn’t entirely averse to hooking up with someone in uniform, as long as their respective military careers ensured they wouldn’t run into each other during duty hours. The fact that it had been years since she’d been tempted by a fellow soldier didn’t mean anything. She just hadn’t met anyone who interested her enough to set aside her own number-one rule of engagement.
Until now.
She slid a covert glance at Chase Rawlins as she weighed the risks of getting involved with him, even for one night. At least he wasn’t a pilot, and they worked in completely separate units. During the three weeks she’d been at Fort Bragg, she’d never run into him while she’d been working. And in three days, she’d be gone.
“Special Ops, huh?” she asked, tracing a fingertip along the rim of her bottle, considering. If he really was deploying, the likelihood that they would ever see each other again was slim to none. Special Ops commandos kept to themselves and operated under the radar. Their deployments took them to remote locations where few people were aware of their existence. If she decided to get involved with this guy, it would definitely be a hit-and-run maneuver. “So you think I should go for it?”
Laura made a scoffing sound. “Are you kidding? The guy is beyond hot. Besides, we’re outta here in a couple of days. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again. And if it makes you feel any better, in six months your commitment to the U.S. Army is over. Once you’re back to civilian life, there’ll be no chance of running into him again. He’s totally checking you out, by the way. No, don’t look!”
Jenna groaned. “This is ridiculous. You’d think we were teenagers.” After a moment, she slapped both hands decisively on the bar and hopped down from the stool. “I’ll take care of this.”
“What’re you going to do?” Laura asked, her face alight with anticipation.
“Watch and learn, oh young one,” Jenna replied, waggling her eyebrows.
“Wait!” Jenna watched as Laura dragged her pocket-book from the back of the bar stool and began rummaging through it. “Here, take this. I always keep extras, just in case.” She pushed something into Jenna’s hand.
Jenna stared down at the shiny foil packet and gave a huff of astonished laughter. “A condom? Seriously, Laura, I don’t think—”
“You’re right—one’s not enough. Take two.” She shoved another small packet into Jenna’s fingers.
Afraid that someone might see, Jenna stuffed the two condoms into the front pocket of her jeans. “You’re unbelievable. This is just a dance.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. And the Beatles were just a band. Now, go!” She made a shooing motion with her hand.
Inside, Jenna’s heart was beating fast. She was going to ask him for a dance, and whatever happened after that would be up to him. If they only ended up dancing, it would be no big deal. As she approached the group of men, he straightened and leaned against his cue to watch her, masculine appreciation in his expression. By the time she reached him, the other men had stopped to watch, too.
Jenna halted mere inches from the man, deliberately invading his personal space in what she liked to think of as her first test of compatibility. At five feet, eleven inches tall, she was nearly eye-level with him. She’d learned from experience that some guys found her height a little unsettling, but he seemed unfazed. The warm gleam in his eyes and the hint of a dimple in one cheek made her feel as if her approaching him had been a foregone conclusion, but instead of annoyance, the thought drew a reluctant smile from her.
“Hey,” she said in greeting, letting her gaze slide over him.
Up close, the guy was absolutely mouthwatering, from his translucent green eyes, alight with interest, to his square jaw and sensuous smiling mouth. His brown hair was cropped close to his head, but Jenna could see bronze-and-gold glints in the short strands, and guessed he spent a lot of time in the sun, which made sense considering his line of work. He crossed his arms over his chest, and Jenna found herself transfixed by the way the material of his shirt strained over his thick biceps. She swallowed hard and silently acknowledged that she’d be more than a little disappointed if all she got from him was a dance. It seemed every cell in her body suddenly stood at attention, eagerly waiting to obey whatever command he might want to give.
“Hey.” He grinned, revealing dimples deep enough to drive a truck into.
Jenna pretended to lean negligently against the pool table, needing something solid to support her as her knees weakened beneath his smile. What had Laura said his first name was? Jenna couldn’t think clearly, and hoped her sudden confusion didn’t show on her face.
“So, Rawlins,” she said, deliberately using just his surname, “You wanna dance?” Her voice sounded both seductive and challenging.
“You bet.”
Without taking his eyes from her, he thrust his cue toward the nearest man and caught her hand firmly in his own as he pulled her toward the dance floor. He swung her into his arms, and finally Jenna knew firsthand what it was like to have all that strength and grace surround her. For as long as she could remember, she had struggled to come to terms with her height. Next to other women, she usually felt like a galumphing elephant, but she’d learned a long time ago not to let anyone see her insecurities. Right now, though, despite the fact he was only several inches taller than her, she felt fragile in his arms.
He splayed one hand at the small of her back, while his other held hers captive. There was nothing tentative or polite about the action; it was uncompromisingly confident, bordering on possessive. He maintained just enough space between the framework of their bodies so that they weren’t actually touching, but Jenna could feel the heat he generated.
“I haven’t seen you in here before.” His voice was warm and rich, with a distinctly Texan drawl.
Jenna suppressed a smile, enjoying the easy way he maneuvered her body to match his movements. “That’s because I’ve never been in here before.”
He drew back slightly and his eyes narrowed as they traveled leisurely over her features. “Have we met?”
Her breath caught as he suddenly spun her into a neat turn beneath his hand, before bringing her back into his arms. “Oh, wow.” She laughed. “Wasn’t expecting that.” She regained her focus, feeling a little off-balance, steadied only by the warm hand at her back. “Um, no. We haven’t actually met, unless you count the time I nearly ran you over in the grocery store last week.”
“Ah …” he said meaningfully, as if something had finally clicked. “I knew I’d seen you before.” He increased the pressure of his fingers, urging her closer. His warm breath fanned her ear. “So how do you know my name?”
Jenna leaned back enough to stare boldly into his eyes. “I asked.”
Their gazes held for a long moment, before his lips curved in a slow smile. He gave a soft laugh of either amusement or admiration and then he eased her body closer, sliding his palm up to rest between her shoulder blades, while he curled his other hand around her fingers and pressed them to his chest. The movement brought her up against his hard contours, and beneath the fingers of her free hand, his shoulder muscles bunched and relaxed.
Jenna’s heart beat faster than necessary; too fast for such a slow dance. She was acutely conscious of how well their bodies fit together, their hips perfectly aligned. If she turned her face even fractionally, her lips would brush against the smooth, tanned skin of his neck. She breathed deeply, inhaling a scent that was intensely clean and yet unmistakably masculine. His soap, or a subtle cologne, maybe. Or some crazy, secret pheromone designed purely to arouse the opposite sex. She wanted to rub herself all over him.
“So, do I get to ask your name?” His voice rumbled softly against her ear.
“Hmm.” She dragged her mind away from the indecent thoughts swirling through her head to concentrate on his words. “Jenna Larson.”
“Are you from around here?”
“No,” she replied, thinking of her home on Cape Cod, in Massachusetts. “Just passing through. And you?”
“Originally from Texas, currently assigned to Fort Bragg. But I guess you know that, too, huh?”
Jenna glanced at his face, but his expression gave nothing away. His good looks aside, she liked his easy smile and the warmth that lingered in his eyes when he studied her. “Actually, I didn’t know you were from Texas. But it wasn’t difficult to guess you’re in the military,” she admitted. “Just about every guy in here tonight is. All you have to do is look at the haircuts.”
The music came to an end, and Jenna reluctantly allowed Chase to lead her from the dance floor. His gaze flicked to his buddies, still congregated around the pool tables, but he didn’t make an immediate move to separate from Jenna.
“Well, thanks for the dance,” she said brightly. But when she would have stepped away, he caught her wrist. She turned back, expectant.
“Do you wanna get out of here? Find someplace a little less crowded?” His voice was low … compelling. His eyes searched hers, and Jenna felt her insides churn with anticipation.
“Maybe. What do you have in mind?”
He shrugged and his thumb rubbed the inside of her wrist. “A bottle of wine, an old army blanket and an outstanding view of the jets taking off and landing at Pope Field.” His mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “I happen to know they’re doing night maneuvers, and I promise you, it really is spectacular to watch. We don’t even need to go on base. There’s a field beyond the perimeter that provides a great view.”
Jenna considered him closely. Was it possible he didn’t realize she was also in the military? Of course, there was no reason why he would; she looked completely ordinary in her jeans and button-down sleeveless top, with her hair loose around her shoulders, and it wasn’t as if he could see the dog tags nestled between her breasts. She couldn’t blame him for mistaking her for a civilian.
Despite the fact she’d already decided he was fair game, her instincts screamed at her to refuse his offer. He was too tempting, too confident of his own attraction. She should run as fast as she could in the opposite direction. But the expression in his eyes, combined with the seductive stroke of his finger against her skin, was doing strange things to her common sense. She could no longer remember why she should avoid getting involved with military guys, especially when this one was so damned gorgeous. Not that one night could possibly count as getting involved. After all, she’d be gone in three days. She’d never see him again. She glanced toward the bar, where Laura gave her a thumbs-up.
Chase arched an eyebrow, waiting for her response.
“Well, I do like pinot noir.”
2
WITH HER HAND TUCKED firmly into his, Chance Rawlins steered his spoils through the crowded nightclub, intent on getting her outside before she changed her mind. He recalled the incident in the supermarket, when their carts had collided. Normally, he’d have seized the opportunity to chat her up, maybe get a phone number, but she’d turned her cart away so fast he’d wondered if he’d left his fly unzipped.
The last place he’d expected to run into her again was Shooters nightclub, a place normally reserved for junior officers and local gals looking to get some action. Jenna Larson hadn’t struck him as falling into the latter category, but he’d been wrong.
Lucky for him.
The only reason he’d been at the club tonight was to give his brother, Chase, a decent send-off. He and his unit of elite special ops commandos were scheduled to deploy to Afghanistan in just two days. Despite the fact that most of his brother’s unit had been at the club, ready to raise a beer, Chase hadn’t shown up. Probably doing last-minute paperwork, Chance thought. As identical twins, they took their military duties seriously, but that’s where any similarity ended. Chase was all business, all the time, whereas Chance had no problem setting his work aside to have a little fun.
He glanced at the woman by his side.
Absolutely no problem whatsoever.
He didn’t make a habit of picking women up at clubs, but there was something about this particular woman that made him unable to release her after their dance. She’d aroused an awareness in him, a rush of hot excitement similar to what he felt just before he went out on a dangerous mission. He wasn’t about to ignore it.
He held the door open for Jenna, watching as she preceded him down the walkway to the parking lot. The night was warm and clear, with a soft breeze and the sound of night bugs in the surrounding trees. Jenna paused on the pavement, looking around.
“So which car is yours? Wait—don’t tell me.” She held up a hand to forestall him. “Let me guess.”
Chance came to a stop beside her. “You actually think you can guess which car is mine?”
“Sure.” She took a step back and pretended to size him up. “If I know your type, it’s probably understated and practical, but would need to have a great performance record. Which means it’s an expensive model.” She searched the lot. “I’m guessing an SUV, maybe a Land Rover or an older Land Cruiser.”
Chance gave a soft laugh. She’d just described his brother’s vehicle to a T. “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but you don’t know my type at all.”
She tossed him a determined look. “Just give me a sec, okay?”
Chance spread his arms wide and grinned. “Take as long as you need, darlin’.”
He watched as she crossed to the first row of cars and paused to survey them. While her back was turned, he strolled to where the motorcycles were parked and threw a leg over the leather seat of a low-slung, black Harley. He turned the key, taking a perverse satisfaction in the way she visibly started at the rumble of the deep, throaty engine. Twisting sideways, he withdrew a half helmet from a saddlebag and dangled it on the end of one finger.
“This is yours?” she asked, disbelief written across her face as she walked toward him.
“You still think you know my type?”
To his relief, she merely gave him a tolerant look and accepted the proffered head gear. Chance secured his own helmet, before glancing at Jenna, who stood watching him.
“Climb on,” he invited, and rose to a standing position to give her more room. When she’d settled herself behind him, he sat down, acutely aware of her long legs bracketing his hips. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the engine. “I have a jacket in the saddlebag. You’re welcome to use it.”
In answer, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. His stomach muscles involuntarily contracted as she splayed her hands over his abdomen, and he could feel the softness of her breasts pressed against his back. Her chin rested on his shoulder as she spoke directly into his ear, her warm breath fanning his cheek.
“I’m sure I’ll be warm enough.”
Chance nearly groaned, his body registering the heat of her palms and the pressure of her thighs, aware of every breath she drew. He eased the bike backward out of the parking spot and then accelerated toward the open road, gratified when she clutched at him and hung on even tighter. From the moment he’d spotted her sitting at the bar, she’d intrigued him. She stood out from the other women in the club, and not just because of her height.
He liked her long, slim body and the way she seemed completely comfortable in her own skin. She didn’t slouch or try to disguise the fact that she stood a head taller than most other women. She walked with the loose-limbed gait of an athlete, but Chance could easily envision her wearing an elegant evening gown … or better yet, some sexy number involving a thong and thigh-high, sheer stockings that emphasized the length of her legs. She wore a minimal amount of makeup, and her hair hung in sleek waves around her face, the lights of the club picking out the red highlights in the thick, brown tresses. She looked reserved and unapproachable, almost haughty.
Until she looked at him.
Then her expression turned hungry. Like she knew what she wanted and to hell with anyone who stood in her way.
Good thing she was just passing through. Her eyes, cool and carnal, made him want to do decadent things with her. He itched to bury his hands in her hair and muss the sleek waves. He wanted to wipe the sheen of gloss from her lips with his mouth. He wanted those mile-long legs wrapped around his waist.
He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had such a visceral response to a woman. He couldn’t even blame it on alcohol, since he’d had only one beer. But he’d seen the way the other guys eyeballed her, and he’d been gripped with an overwhelming need to keep her to himself, away from the loud music and artificial atmosphere of the club. He didn’t need to get any crazy ideas about seeing her again after tonight, which should have made him feel relieved. But the thought of not seeing her again roused an uncomfortable, unfamiliar emotion that felt suspiciously like regret. And that alone was enough to convince him that he shouldn’t see her again.
They roared along the familiar streets with her hugging his back until they came to a convenience store. Pulling the Harley up to the curb, he turned off the engine and removed his helmet.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised, easing himself from the bike. Without her warmth surrounding him, he felt chilled.
Inside the shop, he selected a bottle of wine from the cooler and helped himself to a couple of paper cups from the coffee bar. When he came back out, Jenna had scooted forward on the seat and had her hands firmly on the handle-grips. Her long legs easily reached the ground and she looked as if she belonged there. His rampant imagination conjured up images of her lounging back on the Harley wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of four-inch stilettos.
“Mind if I drive?” she asked, a challenging glint in her eyes.
Chance stopped in his tracks. “Do you know how?”
She shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
He laughed as he came forward and stashed the bottle and cups inside one of the saddlebags. “Maybe another time.”
“What? Do you have a problem riding behind a woman?” she asked. Her tone was light, but Chance paused, sensing something more in her words.
He straightened and gave her a slow grin. “Actually, no, I don’t. In fact, it’s one of my favorite positions.”
Even in the darkness, Chance didn’t miss how her eyes assessed him. After a moment, she slid back, relinquishing the driver’s position. Leaning forward, he braced one hand on the seat by her hip and the other on the handlebar. “Listen, if you had a motorcycle endorsement on your license, and if I knew for a fact you were completely sober and if I thought you could actually handle the weight of the bike and a passenger, I’d have no problem letting you drive, okay?”
Her fingers paused on the fastening of her helmet and her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Really?”
“Really. But for now, let me take care of it.” He traced a thumb along the soft curve of her jaw. “Besides, you feel good behind me.”
Without waiting for a response, he eased himself onto the bike, smiling as her arms came back around him. Within minutes, they reached a narrow road that meandered through the dark trees and finally emerged into a wide field. Directly in front of them lay the lights of Pope airfield, so close that Chance could see the shadowy figures of the controllers in the tower.
He drew the bike to a stop in the tall grass and waited for Jenna to dismount. Fireflies flickered in the darkness, and the sound of crickets filled the air.
“Wow,” she said, pulling her helmet off and staring at the airstrip. “This is amazing. We’re like fifty feet from the end of the runway.”
They were actually more than five hundred feet from the runway, but Chance didn’t disagree with her. Once the planes started to come in, the distance wouldn’t matter. Hanging their helmets from the handlebars, he dug through the saddlebags and withdrew a wool army blanket and the bottle of wine.
“C’mon, I’ll spread the blanket over here,” he said, tromping on the tall grass to flatten it. He opened the blanket and flapped it onto the ground, before sitting down. Jenna stood near the motorcycle, watching him. He patted the blanket invitingly. “C’mon. I promise not to bite.”
“Does anyone ever come out here?”
He shrugged. “Not that I know of. At least, I’ve never seen anyone else out here.” He indicated the woods behind them. “The road dead ends at an electrical service station about a quarter mile that way, so there’s no reason for anyone to come out here.” He smiled at her through the darkness. “But if there was, you’re safe with me.”
As she crossed to where he sat, Chance opened the wine and poured some into the paper cups, handing one to her as she lowered herself on the blanket beside him. Sitting cross-legged, she stared up at the sky. A brilliant light hung suspended in the distance, like an overly bright star signaling an incoming aircraft.
“Here comes one now,” she said, and took a sip of her wine before leaning over to look more closely at the bottle. “Mmm. Is this a pinot noir? You were actually listening to me.”
Chance nodded and took an appreciative sip. “Did I do good?”
She slanted an amused glance in his direction. “You’ve done okay. So far.”
“Then I’ll have to try harder,” he replied with a soft laugh. “Look, here she comes.”
Jenna turned her attention toward the incoming aircraft. Chance could hear the engines rev as the pilot throttled back.
“Looks like a cargo plane,” Jenna mused as it began its final descent.
“Yep. A C-130 Hercules. The 4th Brigade is doing a night jump, so this baby just dropped them off.”
As the plane drew closer, it appeared that it would fly directly over the spot where they sat. The aircraft came in low, its jets deafening on the night air. The vibration was enough that Chance felt it in his chest, and he looked at Jenna in time to see her mouth form a soundless “oh” of amazement as the big bird screamed over their heads. Even in the indistinct light, he could see the enjoyment on her face and felt a ridiculous sense of pleasure that he’d been responsible for putting it there.
“Wow,” she exclaimed, after the C-130 touched down. “That was freaking amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever watched a landing from quite this perspective.”
“The show’s not over yet. Look.” Chance directed her attention to a helipad on the far side of the runway. “They’ll send a brigade of Black Hawks out to extract the paratroopers from the jump site.”
As the roar of the C-130 engines faded, Chance could hear the thwap-thwap of the helicopter rotors churning to life. The first bird lifted slowly into the air and hovered for a brief moment, silhouetted against the night sky before accelerating forward, directly above the spot where they sat.
Chance lay flat on his back and drew Jenna down beside him, turning his head to watch her as five Black Hawks thundered above them, the downward wash from their rotors stirring the grass and blowing Jenna’s hair around her face.
“Oh, man, I love that sound!” She shifted on the blanket to look at him, laughing, and Chance felt his breath catch.
Setting his cup of wine aside, he rose up on one elbow and used his free hand to tug a strand of hair loose from the corner of her mouth, where it had caught.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, when the racket of the helicopters had faded.
She gazed up at him, still smiling. “Oh, yeah.”
Her eyes were mysterious in the dim light, her mouth soft and lush. Her dark hair fanned out on the blanket beneath her head and Chance twined a silky lock of it around his finger. Beneath her blouse, her breasts rose and fell in an agitated way, betraying the fact that she wasn’t nearly as relaxed as she pretended to be.
“So what made you go to Shooters tonight?” he asked, idly rubbing the strand of hair between his fingers.
She made a small, shrugging motion. “I went with a friend, more out of boredom than anything else.”
He fastened his gaze on her mouth. “And are you bored now?”
“Getting there,” she said huskily, and moistened her lips. “You might have to do something about that. Any ideas?”
“Well, for starters, I really want to kiss you,” he confessed in a husky voice, studying her face.
“Thank God,” she breathed. Reaching up, she slid a hand to the back of his head and drew him down to her.
CHASE RAWLINS CLEARLY knew how to kiss, and enjoyed doing it. He leaned over her, cupping her face in his palm as his mouth leisurely explored hers. His lips were warm and firm and he tormented her with soft, lingering kisses as his thumb caressed her cheek.
Jenna really had gone too long without sex. What other reason could there be for the way her blood hummed through her veins, or the way his touch did crazy things to her already heightened senses? She was acutely conscious of how warm and solid he felt against her body. He tasted faintly of wine, and she breathed in the intoxicating blend of his aftershave, the warm, fusty odor of the woolen blanket and the crisp scent of the crushed grass beneath them. She wanted to devour him, but he kept his kisses frustratingly sweet, teasing her, but not giving her what she craved.
“Open your mouth,” she breathed against his lips, desperate to taste him.
He made a noise, something between a groan and sigh, and then his tongue was in her mouth, sliding against hers and ratcheting up her need. The hot, moist kiss triggered an answering rush of dampness between her thighs. She wanted to throw a leg across his hips and press herself against him. Instead, she squeezed her knees together and told herself to slow down. But when he deepened the kiss, Jenna couldn’t prevent sliding her arms around his broad shoulders and arching against him, telling him without words that she wanted more.
He grunted softly in approval, and before she knew what he intended, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him until she lay sprawled across his chest, her legs tangled with his. Gasping, she eased away enough to look down into his face. In the indistinct light, his eyes seemed to glow in his tanned face, and his breathing came in hard pants.
“I’m too heavy for you,” Jenna protested. But when she would have pushed away, he restrained her.
“Are you kidding?” He sounded astonished. “You feel great.”
As if to emphasize his words, he thrust his fingers into her hair where it hung loose around her face and drew her back down, covering her mouth with his own. Jenna resisted for about a fraction of a second before the heat of his kiss caused her to melt against him. When he wedged a hard thigh between her legs, she instinctively rode it, savoring the friction against her center, where she pulsed hotly. He speared her tongue with his, in concert with the rocking of her hips against his leg. The sensation was amazing, but she wanted more.
Pulling back, Jenna straddled him. He shifted beneath her, until she was pressed fully against the hard ridge of his arousal.
“Oh, man, you feel good,” she said, bracing her hands on his chest and moving reflexively back and forth. The intimate contact created a fresh flood of moisture to saturate her panties, and her nipples felt tight and achy.
As if he knew what she needed, he reached up and covered her breasts with his hands. All the air escaped from her lungs in a soft rush of pleasure. Her back arched as his thumbs stroked across the distended nipples.
She was glad now that while he’d been in the store buying the wine, she’d slipped her dog tags off and pushed them into the pocket of her jeans. There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to get very intimate, very quickly. She could almost guess how he might respond if he saw the telltale evidence of her military service, and she didn’t need to have him ruin the moment by asking questions. She’d learned from experience that most men found her job as threatening as her height, so she avoided talking about it whenever possible.
Only her father seemed less than impressed with her chosen career. Part of the reason she’d opted to become an army helicopter pilot was to make him proud, although she’d never admit to him how much his opinion mattered, or how everything she did and even how she felt about other pilots could be traced right back to him. She could barely admit it to herself. She was a more than competent pilot, she knew that, yet she couldn’t seem to shake the sense that, no matter how good she was, she’d never be quite good enough. She’d worked twice as hard as any of the guys in her unit, and had achieved just as much, so why did she feel as if she was a disappointment to her father? And why did it matter so much? Aside from teaching her how to fly helicopters, he’d hardly taken any notice of her. She didn’t owe him anything.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasped. His face was taut as he watched her. “What you like.”
The small part of Jenna’s brain that still functioned knew she should stop, but the sensations coursing through her body were too intense. She needed more of the delicious contact. Covering his hands with her own, she encouraged his caresses even as she angled her hips for optimum friction.
“I like this,” she assured him. Her voice sounded husky and unfamiliar, even to herself. “But I want more.”
When her hands moved to the buckle of his belt, he made a sound like a helpless groan and caught her wrists.
“Wait.”
Jenna’s hands stilled. His features were all hard angles in the dim light and she silently berated herself for having moved too fast. When would she learn that not all men appreciated women who took the initiative? “What is it?”
“I want you to know that I didn’t bring you out here for this. I mean, I’d hoped, of course—” He gave her a lopsided grin. “But it wasn’t something I’d planned on. I just wanted you to know.”
Jenna felt a smile tug at her mouth. She hadn’t expected him to be so considerate, although she should have guessed. After all, she’d seen him dance. “Okay … so does this mean you want me to stop?”
“Hell, no!” He released her wrists. “But it’s only fair I tell you that we might not see each other again after tonight. So if that bothers you …”
“It doesn’t,” she assured him. “Like I said before, I’m only here for a few days, and then I’ll be gone.” She paused meaningfully. “So, unless you’re married or something …”
He laughed softly and raised his ringless hands for her inspection. “No wife. No fiancée. No girlfriend.”
“Then no worries, because I’m not looking for any promises. Your job is dangerous, and you can never be sure where you’re going to be from one day to the next. Trust me, I get it. Not exactly conducive to a relationship, right?”
“Right …”
She heard the cautious agreement in his voice, and wondered if she’d made another faux pas. Maybe he didn’t want her to know that he was with special ops. Some of those guys were funny about revealing their connection to the black world of covert operations. But she really did get it, because her own career made it difficult for her to establish any romantic ties.
“All I’m trying to say is that I’m okay with keeping this casual,” she clarified. “No strings. No commitments.
“ Leaning down, she put her mouth next to his ear and lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. “No problem.”
3
CHANCE COULDN’T THINK of one damn reason to argue with her, not when her heat scorched him through his jeans and her hands were at his belt, finishing the task he’d interrupted just moments earlier. He’d been honest with her. He’d told her that whatever they shared wouldn’t extend beyond tonight, and she’d been okay with it. More than okay, really. He should feel a little insulted that she was so okay with not seeing him again, but suddenly he couldn’t think about much beyond the feel of her fingers unzipping his jeans and tentatively stroking him beneath the fabric of his boxers.
“You’re so hard,” she breathed.
Oh, yeah.
“You’re sure—”
“Shh.” She lay her fingers over his mouth. “You talk too much.”
As if to emphasize her point, she leaned down and covered his lips with her own, sliding her tongue against his. Chance wanted to groan with pleasure. He buried his fingers in her hair and angled her face for better access, luxuriating in the damp silk of her mouth. She made a small noise in her throat and shifted so that she could reach between their bodies and cover his straining erection with her hand. The heat of her palm through the thin cotton had him pushing upward, instinctively seeking more of the erotic contact.
“Mmm,” she murmured approvingly. “You like that?”
Chance managed to grunt a reply, and then ceased to think altogether when she slipped a hand inside the waistband of his boxers and curled her fingers around him. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so aroused so quickly. Of course, he hadn’t been with anyone in more than six months, and that kind of deprivation had a way of ratcheting up your libido. But Chance suspected that even if he hadn’t gone through a recent dry spell, he’d have a tough time resisting Jenna Larson. Everything about her turned him on. When she began to rhythmically slide her hand along his length, he groaned loudly and reached down to wrap a restraining hand around her wrist.
“Darlin’,” he panted, “you need to slow down, or this is going to be over a whole lot quicker than either of us wants.”
To both his regret and relief, Jenna released him.
“Sorry,” she whispered against his lips, “but I really want to touch you.”
She raised herself to a sitting position and ran her palms over the planes of his chest, her expression so sexy that Chance knew if she touched him again the way she just had, he’d be a goner. He didn’t protest when she began unfastening the buttons on his shirt and then tugged the fabric free from his waistband until he was exposed to her greedy gaze.
“Holy shit,” she muttered, and stroked a fingertip down the shallow groove that bisected his torso until she encountered the tip of his erection where it protruded above the waistband of his boxers. “It’s like you’ve been … airbrushed. Only, better.”
Chance gave a huff of laughter, grateful for the long hours he’d spent in physical training. He kept his body in prime condition, not just because the army required it, but because he and his brother had an ongoing rivalry over which of them was in better shape. With his rigorous special ops training, Chase usually kicked his ass in that department, but Chance suddenly didn’t care. If Jenna Larson liked what she saw, that was more than good enough for him.
She still straddled his hips, and when she swirled the tip of her finger over the head of his penis, Chance groaned and strained upward.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he growled softly. “My turn.”
Without giving her time to protest, he slid her to one side of the blanket and sat up, bending forward to yank his boots off and toss them aside. Her eyes never left him as he peeled his shirt away and spread it out on the blanket behind him, before he stood and swiftly shed his jeans. Finally, when all he wore were his boxers, he dropped back onto the blanket and turned to Jenna.
“That’s better,” he murmured, and scooted closer until mere inches separated them. Bracing himself on his forearm, he undid the first button of her blouse, and then the second. In the dim light, he could just make out the lacy edge of her bra. His fingers paused over the third button, and he slanted her a questioning look.
“Don’t stop now,” she murmured, and a hint of a smile curved her lips. Beneath his hand, Chance could feel the frantic, unsteady beat of her heart.
He slid a hand beneath the fall of her hair and dipped his head to cover her lips once more. She sighed into his mouth and her hand forged a molten trail along his rib cage and over his hip to boldly cup his butt and urge him closer.
Chance resisted the urge to grind against her, and instead focused on slowly unbuttoning her blouse as he explored her mouth with his tongue. When the fabric fell open beneath his fingers, he raised his head to admire the exposed swell of soft flesh beneath the lacy bra and the long, slender length of her waist.
“Gorgeous,” he muttered, and stroked the back of his fingers across the satiny skin, watching in fascination as her stomach muscles contracted beneath his touch. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he didn’t wait for her permission, but flicked the button open and drew the zipper down in one easy movement. In the splayed vee of denim, he could just make out the top edge of her panties, and was helpless to prevent himself from laying his palm against her smooth abdomen. He wanted to plant his mouth there. Christ, he wanted to kiss her everywhere. He wanted to lick her skin, breathe in her scent and feel her softness against his palms. He dragged in a deep breath and forced himself to slow down.
Jenna made a small sound of frustration, and then her hands were there, pushing her jeans over her hips, even as she kicked her sandals free from her feet. Chance watched, mesmerized, as her long legs were exposed, and then she was gloriously bare except for the scrap of lace at her crotch, gleaming white in the darkness.
She rolled toward him, hitching one slim thigh over his leg, and running her hand along his bare skin. With a muffled groan, he gathered her fully against him, his hands smoothing over her back to survey the dips and curves of her shoulder blades and spine. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her fragrance. She was slim and supple, and when he drew a hand along the back of her thigh and angled her leg higher over his hip, she made an inarticulate sound of pleasure in her throat and pressed her center against his aching cock. She planted hot, moist kisses against his neck and jaw, and her hands were everywhere, exploring his body with an urgency that told him just how aroused she was. Sliding a hand between their bodies, he cupped her through the scrap of silk.
Heat. Moisture. Incredible softness.
Easing the fabric to one side, he stroked a finger along her slick cleft. She gave a strangled cry of pleasure and her hips bucked sharply.
Lust slammed into him with the force of a freight train.
Jenna moaned softly and pushed herself against his fingers, drenching them with the evidence of her arousal. Chance’s cock grew even stiffer, and with a rough sound of need, he rolled her onto her back and settled himself between her splayed thighs, rocking hard against her core. Jenna groaned loudly and grabbed the back of his head, slanting her mouth over his in a deep, openmouthed kiss that sent bolts of white-hot flame straight to his balls. He had a hard time focusing on anything except how bad he wanted to be inside her. He needed to slow down.
Breaking the kiss, he pushed her bra down beneath her breasts, and then covered one plump mound with his hand and rubbed his thumb across the distended tip.
“Oh, God. That feels so good,” she gasped, and arched upward, rubbing herself along the length of his erection. “Help me take these off.”
Chance turned his face to watch as she pushed her panties down and used her feet to kick them free. In the dim light, he could just make out the dark triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs, and then she was pulling him back on top of her, settling him into the cradle of her hips so that his heavy erection rested against her mons.
“Where were we?” she asked in a sultry whisper.
“Right here,” he muttered.
Dipping his head, Chance wrapped his lips around one nipple, drawing it into his mouth as he suckled it. Jenna speared her fingers through his hair and held his head to her breast, her breathing coming in uneven pants. He laved her breast with his tongue while he continued to cup and stroke her other breast with his free hand. He was acutely conscious of her nudity as she squirmed desperately beneath him, bracing one heel on the back of his thigh and rubbing herself against his rigid arousal. But when she reached between their bodies and gripped him in her hand, he nearly came apart.
“Jesus!” He dragged his mouth from her breast and looked down to see her stroking the smooth head of his penis against her slippery clitoris. He was breathing hard, just barely keeping himself in check, but when he looked back at Jenna’s face, he saw she’d already lost it. Her eyes were half-closed, her expression one of pleasure-pain as she rotated her hips against his swollen flesh. As Chance watched, enthralled, she shuddered lightly and cried out, bucking against him as her orgasm washed over her. But when she would have pushed him inside herself, a small vestige of sanity made him grasp her wrist, and he drew marginally away from her.
Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, dazed. “What’s wrong?” Her words were thick. “Don’t you want to?”
Her fingers were still wrapped around his shaft, squeezing him at the base, and it took all his restraint not to spill himself in her hand. She looked like every erotic fantasy he’d ever had, sprawled beneath him with her breasts pushed up, her expression one of pure sexual desire as she held his throbbing dick in her hand.
“I’m not wearing a condom,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, shit.” She abruptly released him.
Chance sucked in a lungful of air as he struggled for control, using the opportunity to shuck his boxers completely. Propping herself on one elbow, Jenna grabbed her discarded jeans and began fishing through the pockets until, with a frustrated growl, she gave the pants a vigorous shake. Chance heard the tinkle of something metallic hit the blanket, and then two small foil squares plopped onto her stomach.
He looked at her in disbelief. “You carry condoms in your pocket?”
Even in the darkness, he saw the color that washed into her face. “Not me—my friend,” she explained. “She gave them to me earlier.”
“Give her a kiss for me when you see her,” he said, and tore one of the wrappers open with his teeth.
When he would have rolled the sheath over himself, Jenna’s hands were there to do it for him. Then he was easing himself into her, inch by exquisite inch, while she made small, feminine sounds of pleasure and rocked her hips to meet him. When he was fully seated in her tightness, he paused and struggled for control. She was hot and wet and unbelievably snug, and he could feel the walls of her inner muscles clenching him. The condom had thankfully dulled his sensitized nerve endings, but only enough that he was able to push inside her without coming. He was completely jacked for her. Slowly, he withdrew and then sank back into her, feeling her muscles squeezing him. He groaned as pressure gathered at the base of his spine.
“Christ, you feel good,” he muttered, and thrust again. “I want you to come again, this time with me in you.”
“Oh, God,” she panted as he increased his pace, pulling out until he was almost free from her body, and then plunging back in. “Oh, yeah …”
Reaching down, he caught her leg behind the knee and pushed it back, bracing himself on one hand so that he could watch the spot where they were joined. The sight of his cock disappearing into her body was incredibly arousing, and he knew he wasn’t far from his own orgasm.
“Come for me,” he demanded softly, and releasing her leg, he reached between their bodies to stroke her with his thumb, sliding his finger over the small, slick nub of flesh. She gave a sharp cry of pleasure and lifted her head to watch. Her entire body trembled. Chance quickened his thrusts as he stroked her, feeling his balls tighten painfully with the need for release.
He was only vaguely aware of the distant thwap-thwap of helicopter rotors approaching, signaling the return of the Black Hawks from their night mission. At that moment, an entire squadron of attack choppers could have landed beside them and he would have been helpless to react. Nothing existed but the woman beneath him and the sharp, hot arousal that spiraled through him.
Jenna’s expression was taut, her eyes hazy and unfocused as she raised her gaze to his, and he knew the precise instant when she teetered on the brink of climax and then plummeted over the edge. At the same time, the roar of helicopter engines became deafening as the battalion of Black Hawks flew directly overhead, churning up wind and grass, and causing Chance’s entire body to thrum with vibration. He heard himself give a hoarse shout as he came in a blinding, white-hot rush of pleasure that caused his spine to bow and his molars to ache. Several long moments later, when all he could hear were the surrounding crickets and his own harsh breathing, he became aware of Jenna’s fingers tracing lazy patterns across his lower back, and he raised his head to peer at her.
“You okay?” His voice sounded raspy.
She turned her face and planted a damp kiss against his mouth. Her breath was warm and came in soft pants against his skin. “Better than okay.” She gave a soft laugh. “That was freaking amazing. In fact, I think that may have qualified as the best sex of my life. Two orgasms … Who would have thought?”
Chance smiled against her neck, absurdly pleased by her words and knowing that sex with Jenna Larson had definitely been the best he’d ever had. The only problem was he wanted more.
“Do you think they saw us?”
“Who?” He was having trouble getting his head together, and it took a minute for her words to register. The sound of rotors had dimmed to a distant whir, and then they stopped altogether. “You mean, the helos? No way. They didn’t have their spotlights on, and their attention would have been focused on the landing pad, and not on the field. Besides, it’s too dark.”
“What if the pilots were wearing night-vision goggles?”
Withdrawing from the warmth of her body, Chance neatly disposed of the condom before reclining back on the blanket and pulling Jenna snugly against his side. “If the pilots were wearing night-vision goggles, and if they spotted us, then all they saw was my backside.” He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Don’t worry.”
Jenna made an incoherent sound that told him she wasn’t completely reassured, but before Chance could soothe her further, something hard and sharp dug into his hip. Reaching beneath him, he retrieved the offending object. He held it up, staring at it in bemusement. A set of military dog tags dangled from the end of his fingers, and since his own tags were fastened securely around his neck, he knew they didn’t belong to him. He turned to Jenna in disbelief.
“Are these yours?”
“What if they are?” Her voice sounded defensive.
“Jesus. Why didn’t you tell me you were active duty?”
“Does it matter?” Pulling her bra into place, she snatched the necklace from his hand and dropped the chain over her head so that the tags nestled between her breasts. Pulling away from Chance, she sat up and fished around on the blanket until she found her panties.
“Goddamn right, it matters,” Chance retorted, watching as she stood up to pull them on. Even as his thoughts raced through the various—and unpleasant—implications of what this could mean, he couldn’t help but admire her lithe form as she quickly got dressed. Unless she was a commissioned officer, he could get into serious trouble for fraternization, since contact with enlisted members was strictly prohibited. “Please tell me you’re not enlisted.”
She paused long enough to give him a tolerant look, and then balled up his discarded boxers and threw them at his chest. “Don’t worry. I may be a sucker for a handsome face, but I’m not completely brainless. I’m an army captain.”
Chance refrained from making the obvious rejoinder, too floored by her admission to crack any kind of joke. He could only stare stupidly at her. He definitely hadn’t seen this one coming. “So what is it that you do?” he finally managed. “What unit are you assigned to?”
She paused in buttoning her blouse and looked across the meadow and razor-wire fences to the runway and helicopter landing area. “See those Black Hawks? That’s my unit. I’m with the 10th Combat Aviation Brigade out of Fort Drum. If I hadn’t already exceeded my flying hours for the day, I would have been piloting one of those birds to the extraction site.”
For a moment, Chance was too stunned to speak. When he finally found his voice, it sounded strained. “You’re a Black Hawk pilot?”
Jenna thrust her long legs into her jeans and pulled them up, watching him warily. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Hell, no,” Chance assured her as he stood up and began to gather his own clothing. “I think it’s great! I mean that sincerely. Really.” He paused and scrubbed a hand hard over his face and laughed softly. A freaking pilot. Who would have thought? “You just surprised me, that’s all. As a matter of fact, I’m—”
“I know what they say about pilots,” she interrupted, “and most of the time, I’m in total agreement.”
Chance looked at her, puzzled. “What do they say about pilots?”
She shrugged and sat down on the blanket. Reaching for the bottle of wine, she poured them both a little more. “How do you know if you’re halfway through a date with a pilot?” She gave him an overly bright smile. “Because he—or in my case, she—says ‘That’s enough about flying. Let’s talk about me!’“
Chance laughed and lowered himself down beside her. “You haven’t talked about flying once tonight, but if you’d like, we can talk about you. In fact, you are quickly becoming my new favorite subject.”
He watched her closely in the indistinct light, wishing he could read the expression in her eyes. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. Who would have guessed that she was a freaking helicopter pilot? It shouldn’t have mattered, but for him it made all the difference.
She took a sip of wine, smiling at him from over the rim of the cup. “How do you know when there’s a pilot at your party?”
Chance had heard the joke countless times, but he shrugged. “I don’t know. How?”
“He’ll tell you. How many pilots does it take to change a lightbulb?” She waited, but when Chance didn’t respond, she continued. “Just one. He holds the lightbulb, while the world revolves around him.”
“Wow.” Chance gave a small huff of laughter. “Sounds like you don’t think very highly of your fellow pilots.”
“Oh, no. That’s where you’re wrong. I have a huge amount of respect for what they do when they’re in the cockpit. They’re some of the bravest, most talented guys I know.” She grimaced. “It’s what they do the rest of the time that bugs me.”
“Clarify, please.”
Jenna shrugged. “They’re incapable of handling a committed relationship. If they have to consider anyone other than themselves, they fail. Basically, they’re shallow, narcissistic, egotistical, arrogant—” She broke off abruptly. “Well, you get the picture.”
Chance blew out a hard breath. Her words both disturbed and disappointed him. “So … you dated a pilot and he turned out to be a self-centered jackass, is that it?”
To his surprise, Jenna shook her head. “No way. My opinions are based strictly on a lifetime of observation. I’ve never actually dated another pilot. In fact, I make it a point to steer clear of them—at least, romantically.”
Chance felt something fist low in his gut. “Oh, yeah? I’d think you’d be happy to have someone who understands what it is you do. Someone who really gets it.”
“Ha! The only thing they want to get is laid.”
“So I guess you’re performing true to form, then, huh?” Chance couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, look at you … you’re a pilot. What makes you so different from the guys? You clearly wanted to get laid, and you succeeded.” He gave her a terse smile. “Glad to have been of service, ma’am.”
He began buttoning his shirt, refusing to look at her, because if he did, she might see something in his eyes that he was trying really hard to hide.
Regret. Disappointment.
He shouldn’t care what her motives were for being with him. It wasn’t as if he was planning on seeing her again. They’d agreed that this wasn’t going to be anything more than a onetime hookup. No strings. No commitments. So why did he feel so miserable?
Jenna sighed. Reaching out, she lay a hand on his arm. “Look, it wasn’t like that, okay?” She gave a rueful laugh. “To your credit, I broke my own rules when I agreed to come out here with you. My number-one rule is to never sleep with a pilot, so at least I didn’t break that rule, thank God. But I generally try not to get involved with anyone in the military, period. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”
The woman didn’t have the first clue what he did for a living. Chance’s first instinct was to tell her, just so he could see her response. Instead, he gave a snort and finished fastening his shirt. He didn’t trust himself to look at her. “I’m flattered. Really.”
She made a sound of frustration. “I’m not trying to flatter you—”
“Do the guys in your battalion have any clue how you feel about them?” he asked, cutting her off. He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Do they realize what a low opinion you have of them?”
Even in the darkness, he could see how taken aback she was. “Just because I prefer not to sleep with them doesn’t mean I have a low opinion of them. And why are you getting upset about this? Trust me, they have such high opinions of themselves that what I think doesn’t even register on their ego-meters.”
“Right.” Chance pushed himself to his feet and began scooping up their things, forcing her to scoot off the blanket so that he could roll it into an untidy ball and stuff it into his saddlebag. “It’s getting late. I’ll take you back to the club or drive you home. Whichever you prefer.”
He didn’t look at Jenna, but concentrated on packing up instead. He felt like he’d just made a crash landing after an exceptionally spectacular flight, and now his only hope was that he could walk away from the wreckage unscathed. He wasn’t going to argue with her and ruin what had, up until a few moments ago, been the best night he’d spent in a very long time. She was entitled to her opinions and it wasn’t like they were ever going to see each other again. Even if he had wanted to ask her out, once she discovered what he did for a living, she’d be gone from his life faster than a Hellfire missile.
Better to let her believe that her record was untarnished. Because after hearing her opinions about pilots, there was no way in hell he was going to tell her that she’d broken her own number-one rule. She’d just had the best sex of her life with an Apache helicopter pilot. Boo-rah.
4
Two months later—Nuristan Province, Afghanistan
JENNA BROUGHT THE BLACK Hawk in low and fast, her eyes sweeping the narrow mountain pass for any signs of insurgency. Behind her, in the open door of the cabin, Specialist Leeann Baker squeezed off several magazines as a warning to deter any possible ambush. Once through the pass, Jenna would have a visual on Forward Operating Base Kalagush, where her current passengers would disembark and she would collect another group bound for Kabul Air Base.
The stark valley, surrounded on all sides by the naked, forbidding peaks of the Hindu Kush mountains, always gave Jenna the shivers. No matter how many times she flew this particular route, she couldn’t shake the sense that she’d stumbled into an episode of The Land That Time Forgot. If a prehistoric pterodactyl suddenly took wing from the nearby crags, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised.
Fortunately, the only predatory birds in the nearby airspace were the second Black Hawk that flew hard on her right flank and the fully manned Apache attack helicopter that provided cover from above. Even with the armed escorts, she wouldn’t breathe easy until they were on the ground at Kalagush. They’d stay just long enough to refuel and reload passengers, before they made the return trip to Kabul Air Base, arriving before darkness fell.
In the seat beside her, so close that their elbows nearly touched, Warrant Officer Laura Costanza radioed their position to the control tower at the remote base. Jenna listened carefully to the instructions provided by the tower and checked the coordinates on the multifunctional display. She’d been flying for nearly five hours, and now she feathered the cyclic stick between her knees while simultaneously working the collective to control her angle of descent.
The mountain pass opened up, and spread out on the desolate wasteland beneath her was the sprawling complex of Forward Operating Base Kalagush, a small patch of Western civilization smack in the middle of the unforgiving terrain of northern Afghanistan. Several minutes later, Jenna brought the helicopter to a smooth landing on the helipad and shut the rotors down.
“Welcome to Kalagush,” she shouted to the soldiers as they gathered their gear together in the cabin. “Enjoy your stay and thank you for flying with the U.S. Army. We know you have no other options, but we still appreciate your business.”
As always, her comments drew laughs and ribald comments from the men as they jumped down from the helicopter and made their way across the tarmac to their new duty station.
“And they say women can’t park!” one of the soldiers said, grinning at her as he climbed out. “Nice flying, ma’am!”
“How long do we have?” she asked Laura, as she shut everything down and completed her flight paperwork.
Laura flipped open a flight book and consulted her watch. “Twenty minutes to unload, refuel, reload and lift off.”
Switching off her headset, Jenna removed her helmet and climbed down from the cockpit and stretched her tight muscles, watching as her flight crew went through the routine of checking the aircraft and preparing it for the return trip. The crew chief, Sergeant First Class Samantha Helwig, began coordinating with the ground personnel to unload the supplies and mailbags that she carried in her cargo bay, while a fuel truck lumbered toward them. Nearby, the other two helicopters were undergoing similar activity.
A soldier jogged toward her across the tarmac, a clipboard beneath his arm. Jenna returned his smart salute.
“Hey, Corporal Garrett.” She smiled, recognizing the man from her previous visits. “Who do we have the privilege of transporting today?”
The soldier consulted his clipboard. “A five-man unit for you, and two VIPs for Captain McLaughlin.”
“Right,” she replied, and glanced in the direction of the other Black Hawk, where she could see the pilot inspecting his aircraft. She wouldn’t speculate on the reasons why McLaughlin always got the VIPs. Her job was to transport personnel. End of story. Her helicopter was large enough to accommodate her four-person crew and seven fully equipped troops, so the five-man team put her almost at full capacity.
Turning away, she began a visual inspection of her own helicopter, looking for any structural damage or weaknesses in the aircraft. She’d been flying with Warrant Officer Costanza for so long now that she no longer thought about the fact that they were the only all-female crew in her battalion. Even her door gunner and her crew chief were women. They all had hundreds of flying hours under their belts, and each took their job seriously. Given a choice, Jenna knew she would choose these women to crew her aircraft over any of the guys in her battalion.
“Just another day at the office,” Laura said brightly, climbing onto the fuselage to inspect the rotor shaft. She slanted Jenna a small smile, reading the direction of her thoughts. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure the VIPs have no clue about who’s piloting which helicopter. It’s not personal.”
Jenna shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to do a job, not suck up to some general who happens to be riding in my jump seat.” She cast another dark look across the tarmac to where Captain Kevin “Mongo” McLaughlin was checking out his tail rotor. “But I know he’s going to gloat over this later, and that just bugs me.”
Laura was only half listening. Her attention was fixated on the other side of the tarmac, where a group of five soldiers were making their way toward the helicopter. Even as Jenna bent to look through the open cabin doors for a better view, Laura scrambled swiftly down.
“Forget Mongo and his gloating,” she hissed, pretending to fiddle with the sliding door of the cabin while her dark gaze remained riveted on the men. “Check these guys out!”
Jenna frowned. Heat shimmered over the asphalt, distorting their figures as they strode closer, and for a moment she was reminded of the iconic Hollywood scene from the blockbuster movie Armageddon, when five heroic astronauts made their way in slow motion across the flight line on a mission to save the world. Only, instead of orange space suits, these guys wore desert camouflage and carried army-issued duffel bags. But beneath the rim of their helmets, their sunburned faces sported several weeks’ worth of beard, and each wore the same don’t-fuck-with-me expression.
“Another special ops team,” mused Jenna. In the two months of her deployment, she and Laura had transported dozens of special ops commandos from one location to another. While Jenna knew the likelihood of running into Chase Rawlins was slim, her heart did a small flip of anticipation each time one of them climbed aboard her helicopter. “Looks like they’ve been outside the wire for a while.”
“Oh, yeah,” murmured Laura in an appreciative tone. “Looks like they could use some serious R and R, and I know just the person to give it to them. Come to Mama, boys.”
Jenna laughed softly, no longer shocked by anything that Laura said. She knew the other woman was mostly talk and almost no action.
As the men drew closer, conversing with each other in low tones, Jenna’s eyes narrowed. There was something about the guy on the far right. He was tall and lean, and walked with an easy, loose-limbed grace that reminded her of—
“Holy crap!”
Laura’s gaze flashed between her and the group of men, and back again. “What? You know one of them?”
Quickly, before the group got any closer, Jenna spun out of sight and pressed her back against the side of the helicopter, adrenaline surging hot and hard through her veins.
“Don’t let him see me,” she whispered fiercely.
“Who?” Laura craned her head so that she was looking through the open doors of the cabin, just as the first man climbed up through the opposite door and into the helicopter. She straightened abruptly and snapped out a salute. “Afternoon, sir,” she said in a no-nonsense military tone. “I’m Warrant Officer Costanza, your copilot. As soon as we’re refueled, we’ll depart.”
Jenna heard the low rumble of a reply, and then Laura stepped smartly away from the door and made her way toward the front of the helicopter, dragging Jenna with her. “Is that who I think it is?” she hissed, incredulous. “Is it the guy from Shooters?”
“Yes. No! I don’t know! I can’t be sure.” Jenna’s heart was slamming so hard in her chest that she was sure Laura must hear it. “I didn’t exactly stop to read his name tag! God.”
But when she pressed her fingers against her closed eyes, she could see him clearly and knew that she hadn’t been mistaken. And what were the freaking chances that she would run into Major Chase Rawlins out here, a gazillion miles from Fort Bragg, in the middle of freaking no-man’s land? There was no doubt in her mind that it was him. Even with half his face covered in scruff, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, she’d recognize him.
She’d thought of him more often than she’d care to admit—even to herself—during the past two months. The one night she’d spent with him was as fresh in her mind as if it had been only yesterday. What would he do when he saw her? Would he even recognize her? Did he ever think of her?
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