Hotshot

by Jo Leigh

  Committing to the course took longer than it should have, but halfway down the street he started to relax. The September night felt good on his skin. It was the kind of night that made fall seem far away. He guided Terri to the right, toward the park, which he knew was well-lit and well-traveled.

  “I hear you’re getting in on the ground floor with the F-35,” Van Linn said.

  His surprise must have shown because there was a hint of smugness in her upturned face. “It’s good to know that gossip has no borders. Yeah, I’ll be in one of the first units at Eglin, then I’m moving on to Hill.”

  “I’ve got friends in Hell.”

  He’d heard the nickname for the Utah base his first week in basic. He’d also heard from a lot of folks that life was pretty sweet in “Hell” if a pilot got the job done. “I wonder how long it’s going to take until I hear all the Hell jokes,” he said. “I’m guessing a week.”

  She laughed, the sound oddly throaty for such a petite woman. Terri came up to about his shoulder. She was a redhead, although he doubted she’d been born that way, despite the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. All her features were diminutive, but he knew from seeing her in the gym and at the pool that she packed a lot of muscle in a surprisingly curvy body.

  She was hot, a fact none of the men on the team had missed, although nothing had been said. At one point he’d wondered if she and Hanover had something going on. There’d been a vibe there. But then, Van Linn was a woman who liked to tease. She used that borderline flirting in her speech, used it particularly well during the question-and-answer sessions. She must be an excellent investigator—she played people, especially men, with skill and strength.

  “Guy I know who’s been at Hill the longest, he’s pretty high on the place,” she said. “It’s easy to get around, the base has good morale and there’s not much crime. Relatively speaking.”

  “It could be in the armpit of any state in the Union and I wouldn’t care. I just want to get rated and start flying.”

  “Yeah. You flyboys, you do love your toys.” Her voice was different out here, breathier than when she was practicing her talk and lower than during meals or meetings.

  He wondered if she’d come along on this walk because she was looking to get laid. Of course, it was equally possible she was catching a cold. “I suppose in your line of work, you’ve got a toy or two of your own,” he said, then hoped it didn’t sound too flirty.

  “You referring to my Sig Sauer? That, my friend, is no toy.”

  “No, ma’am. No disrespect intended.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I will admit that I love my Porsche to pieces. I wouldn’t think of taking it on the job.”

  “Yeah, I get it. I don’t fly my Cessna in combat, so I can see we’re on the same page.”

  At the stoplight, he realized how close she stood, a definite breach of his personal space. It wouldn’t take much for him to accept the invitation. While he now understood the situation completely, he found himself unsure of his next step. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings or piss her off. He did have to work with her.

  Weird. He was back to scratch in the air, but his reflexes with females since last year were still off. He used to be able to read a woman like a menu. At least where sex was concerned. Despite everything, females were fifty percent mystery. But his instincts in situations like this had been honed over a lot of years and a lot of personal experience.

  Van Linn was a very beautiful woman: strong, charismatic and arrogant. He could see where other women might not like her, but men? Yeah, she could have her pick.

  Back in the day, he wouldn’t have hesitated making a night of it. He’d have stepped close, touched her just the right way. He’d have been a perfect gentleman until the bedroom door was closed and locked. They’d have sparred, neither of them figurative lightweights, and who knows which one of them would have ended up on top? None of it was appealing. Not because he was tired, either.

  He stepped away. Not enough to make things awkward. Just a bit. Maybe he would have been up for it if last night hadn’t happened, but probably not. The only woman he wanted in bed was Sara.

  If Alf could hear him now, he’d laugh his ass off. Solo turning down a beautiful woman like Van Linn? Never.

  “Solo?”

  He started, aware the light had turned green and Van Linn was in the crosswalk. He caught up to her. “Sorry.”

  “You looked miles away.”

  “Thinking about an old buddy.”

  “A buddy or a lady friend?” she asked teasingly.

  “Nah. My WSO when I was flying the Eagle.”

  “Is he still in the Sandbox?”

  “Nope. He’s home in Iowa. With his family.”

  “Well, good for him. What about you? Where’s your home?”

  He told her his story for a while, listened to hers. The dance continued as they hit the park, her moving in, him sliding away. Then they were under the trees, away from the lights, and he guessed this part of the park wasn’t as popular at night, because they were alone.

  She touched his arm. “We’re gonna get real busy real soon.”

  He nodded. “I hope I can keep up.”

  “I have a feeling you could keep up with about anything,” she said, moving just that little bit closer.

  He met her gaze through the shadows. “This is new territory for me, Terri, and I made a promise that I’d keep my nose buried in the books. Which is a shame, but true nonetheless.”

  She stilled, then lifted her hand from his arm. “Fair enough,” she said, her voice a little tighter. She hadn’t expected this, didn’t like it, that was obvious from the narrowing of her eyes. “You know what? Now that you mention those books, I’ve got some things I want to read up on before it gets too late. So I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’ll walk back with you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I never doubted it,” he said, taken aback at her reaction.

  “In the morning, then.”

  As he watched her leave, he replayed the conversation in his head, and he thought he’d been okay. Nice, in fact.

  Well, that was just great. He couldn’t even tell when he was being an ass.

  SARA STARED AT THE motel-room wall, watching as the lights from passing cars flashed between the blackout curtains. She needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be a killer day, and she had to be up at dawn. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Luke and Van Linn at the motel exit.

  She shouldn’t care. She’d like to think that if she hadn’t let him in last night, she wouldn’t have minded, but that wasn’t true. Last night had just made her more honest.

  Luke wasn’t breaking any rules, not even his word. Van Linn was fair game. Sara suspected that two of the other speakers were more than colleagues. Both were officers, and it didn’t interfere with the job, so she ignored it. As she should ignore Luke and Van Linn. He was just another team member.

  One who still had so much power over her it wasn’t even funny.

  She turned over in bed, tucked her arm under her pillow and sighed. The day had been a struggle. Thoughts of Luke had intruded at the most inconvenient moments. She’d told herself the bit about being his supervisor, but it had only worked marginally. She had too many feelings, that’s all. Way the hell too many and she didn’t know how to shut them off.

  There had to be some way to do that, right? She’d never let a man interfere with the job, not once, not even when she’d been in the giddy first stages of what she’d hoped was love.

  It hadn’t been love that time, or any other time. Wrong. It had been love once.

  But that had been long ago, and how could just the memory of love have so much power? It made no sense.

  She’d have to get tougher. Harden herself, be unforgiving. It couldn’t matter that he was with Van Linn. That everyone thought she was so hot. That she and Luke were so alike.

  Sara kicked her blankets off, suffocating in the stu
pid motel room even with the window open.

  How could he be with Van Linn less than twenty-four hours after he’d…

  Sara squeezed her eyes shut, thought about tomorrow night’s official start. Everything could go wrong. The sound system had been flaky, half the speakers were first-timers and they could freeze in front of the audience. The simulators could break, but then no one was probably going to show up except for the students who were earning credits. It would be a disaster, Colonel Graves would pull her from the assignment, and she’d end up filing back at Randolph.

  She could always leave the air force. O’Malley would get her decent letters of recommendation, and she could find a job in some city. Someplace with real weather. Snow would be good. Somewhere in Utah, maybe. Near Hill.

  She moaned and knocked her fists against her temples. A lobotomy was the only solution, but there was no time. She was going to see him tomorrow. And the next day.

  God, she needed to sleep.

  LUKE KICKED THE COVERS OFF his bed. It was late. Tomorrow was show day, and he had to sleep. First thing, though, he would have to make it clear to Van Linn that he’d meant no offense. That he’d been flattered. End things right there, get back to business.

  He also had to make sure Sara hadn’t misunderstood what she’d seen. Suddenly, talking to Van Linn seemed like nothing. Most likely, Terri hadn’t left because she was insulted, but because all she’d wanted was a jump, and if that wasn’t on the table, she wasn’t interested.

  Damn, he should have clued in on that straight away. How many times had he done the same thing? Not that he did it anymore. That was what he wanted Sara to know. But he couldn’t come out and just say that to her. He’d have to think of how to tell her in a roundabout way.

  He groaned and turned over again. This thinking thing was full of crap. It had been so easy before. If he thought about stuff, it was about flying, sports or sex. All this business about regrets and consequences was like learning Chinese. His brain didn’t work that way.

  It hadn’t up until last year. Until he’d lost his plane.

  All he wanted was to be himself again. And the only thing that would get him there was making things right with Sara.

  He closed his eyes and reached for his cock. A quick jerk-off would relax him, and he wouldn’t worry or ponder or wonder or plan. He would be the old Luke, the mindless hotshot who was so full of himself he didn’t have room for anyone else.

  THE DAY HAD STARTED with too much caffeine after four hours of sleep. They were in a university auditorium, the first of many, and while the seats were empty now, they wouldn’t be in five hours and twelve minutes.

  Sara looked up at the two big screens on either side of the stage. They should have images screaming across them, some simultaneous, some individual, but they remained blank because of a gremlin in the equipment. Which was fine. This was the rehearsal, the appropriate time for glitches to be ironed out. She had expected snafus. There was no reason for the headache or for her to clench her fists. Her reaction pissed her off more than the actual problem.

  Why couldn’t she be more like O’Malley? Nothing ruffled him. He’d told her when they’d first met that the secret to good management and planning was to anticipate possible screwups since they were inevitable. She’d done just that as best she could, but there were always a few impossible to predict.

  Sara left the auditorium for the parking lot her team had taken over. Their trucks were at the periphery, several of them empty. Four of the simulators were in place. They looked like what they were—the biggest, baddest, most technically advanced computer games in the world. The truck-size generator rumbled loud and low, a constant irritant. O’Malley was directing the unloading of the final two flight sims, and there were teenagers gathered around the barriers watching everything. Some were taking pictures with their cell phones. Some, she noticed unhappily, were smoking. She supposed there was nothing she could do about that. But if one of them dared light up around her equipment…

  Someone came up beside her and before she could turn her head, an open hand was in front of her, waist-high. On the broad palm were two pills.

  “You’re supposed to be rehearsing,” she said, every muscle in her body tensing. She would not let it show. “Not playing Nurse Nancy.”

  “I’m on a break. Thought I’d get some air.”

  She met Luke’s gaze and instantly wanted to look away. She didn’t. Luke was part of her team. That’s all. Nothing else, and what he did with his free time was—

  He was just part of her team.

  His gaze was on her, and it was as if he was studying her, tallying up her weaknesses. “They’re not symbolic,” he said, nodding at his palm. “They’re just aspirin.” Then he lifted his other hand, which held a bottle of water. “This is symbolic.”

  She couldn’t resist an eye roll, but she took the two pills and popped them in her mouth. Drank them down, and gave him his bottle back. “Thanks.”

  “I don’t think I recognize that big blue one,” he said.

  He was talking about their newest simulator. It was the one she was most troubled about. She was under no illusions about what these sims were here to do. They were war games. Two from the point of view of pilots, both jet and helo, one as a search-and-rescue specialist, one driving a Hummer into an ambush and one as a first-person shooter. The new one simulated a drone pilot. These machines were built to recruit gamers. Millions had gone into making them realistic down to the last detail.

  “They never really get it right,” Luke said. “Damn close, but there’s a difference. It’s not the fault of the machines, though. There’s no way to simulate being so afraid you’re sure you’re going to die.”

  “You? Afraid?”

  He snorted softly. “Oh, yeah.”

  She looked at him again. “Hard to imagine.”

  “There are scary things out there,” he said, meeting her gaze, only this time he looked away quickly. “That’s the part of this that has me worried. I feel like I should tell them, but telling someone isn’t enough.” He nodded toward the machines. “Sitting in a box can’t hope to do it justice.”

  Sara knew Luke as well as she’d ever known another human being. She’d been sure, absolutely certain, she’d seen every emotion play on his face. Seeing such humility in his eyes was still new. And confusing. She reached out to him, catching herself seconds before contact. She drew her arm back and took a step away, hoping he hadn’t noticed.

  All she could see was his profile. So handsome he took her breath away. His lips parted as he blinked, and then his mouth closed again.

  “Tell them that,” she said, leaning in so he could hear her. “Tell the students what you’ve just said. Hearing it from you will make a difference.”

  The right corner of his mouth lifted. “No, it won’t.”

  “It might.”

  He turned to face her. “I’ll do my best.”

  She swallowed, her mouth dry. “I know.”

  He stepped away and she made herself look at the trucks, at anything. He would make a difference on the stage. No one could make a person believe in the impossible like Luke Carnes.

  His footsteps faded a lot quicker than her confusion. He was vulnerable, and he continued to show it. She didn’t know what to do with that information.

  But he was Van Linn’s problem now. Let him get comfort from the redhead.

  Sara’s stomach turned at the thought, or maybe it was the headache that made her feel sick. “Crap,” she said. She had no time for this now, then she jumped when she felt someone at her back.

  It was O’Malley.

  “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. O’Malley’s expression didn’t change, all except one bushy eyebrow. Let him wonder. “Are those machines gonna be ready anytime soon, Master Sergeant?”

  “They’ll be ready when they’re scheduled to be ready, Captain.”

  “Good,” she said. Then she left
him standing in the parking lot. It didn’t hit her until she reached the auditorium that he’d seen her with Luke. No way O’Malley didn’t know what was going on by now. She supposed she’d better incorporate the master sergeant’s snooping into the plan. As soon as she had one.

  7

  LUKE HAD BEEN CORRECT in his assessment of how the night would go. The talk was easy, once he’d decided to completely ignore the size of the audience. Especially after he’d locked on to one person, this time a girl who’d reminded him of Sara when they’d been at Berkeley. It was the questions and answers that had been tricky, but he thought he’d done all right. He kept bringing the subject back to service, not politics. He was looking to motivate those who were searching for something to matter, some way to make a difference.

  The crowd that had gathered around him afterwards had been interesting. The flight suit had gotten its fair share of attention, the subject of Top Gun had worn out its welcome quickly, but there had also been a few phone numbers slipped his way. That’s where he’d fumbled. Not critically, but it hit him yet again that what had once been the simplest part of his life was now the most difficult. Much better were those half-dozen people who’d stuck it out to the end to ask the real questions. He had given them cards for the local recruiters and hoped for the best.

  Now, though, he was done with his part, and thank God, because he was exhausted. The speakers—including Van Linn, who had been avoiding him since their walk—were sprawled out in the front row of seats, watching as O’Malley coordinated tonight’s portion of the packing. Luke kept looking around for Sara, but she must have been outside with the simulators and trucks.

  He wanted to see her, to get his performance-eval. Just to see her.

  “Listen up, people.”

  He lifted his head to find Sara standing between the seats and the stage. She looked great, as if she hadn’t been worrying about every single thing that had gone on for the last twelve hours. She’d freshened her lipstick, and he got stuck right there. On her lips, shiny and inviting, and all he wanted to do was kiss the gloss off. He liked her lips naked, liked her naked, hair wild on the pillow. That moment when the kisses sparked a blaze. He pictured, so clearly, her eyes with her pupils blown so dark they seemed otherworldly. All for him. Jesus.