by Jo Leigh
LUKE FELT HER COME, heard it, tasted it and, shit, he was so close that if he touched himself even once, he’d be done for. If she touched him…
He pulled back, stood up. Looked at her. He’d dreamed of seeing her this way. Seeing that flush on her cheeks, how she could hardly stand, the rise and fall of her chest, and Christ, the wet silk clinging to her nipple—
Cock straining in his trunks, he pressed himself against her hip. He came so hard he saw spots behind his eyes.
When he could breathe again, when he opened his eyes, she had lost the post-orgasmic haze. She smiled, but it disappeared quickly.
“Please,” he whispered, “don’t regret this.”
“I won’t,” she said, stepping to the side, toward her bed. She closed her robe, tightened the sash. “I wanted you. I have feelings for you.” Now, she blushed, looked away, then back. “Problem is, I don’t know what they are.”
He nodded, backed up further. “Tomorrow afternoon I’ve rented a plane. O’Malley knew a guy… It doesn’t matter. I’m taking off at eleven. Maybe you want to come?” He swallowed hard. “There are things to say. Things I need to say.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Fine,” he said. “That’s…good.” He headed for the door, hoping she’d stop him, knowing she wouldn’t. Halfway through the door, he paused. “I have feelings for you, too. I know exactly what they are.”
10
SLEEPILY, SARA REALIZED the buzzing she was hearing wasn’t from a broken microphone, but her cell. Whoever had woken her up was going to die, and no jury would convict when she explained that it was her day off. The first in more than a month. She thought about letting it go to voicemail, but it could be something important, so she reached for the phone and hit talk. “Weston.”
“Get up.”
It was O’Malley. Something had to have gone wrong for him to risk life and limb. “What time is it?”
“Time to get up. I’m taking you to breakfast, so haul your ass up and get dressed.”
“I was up till 2:00 a.m. I don’t want to go to breakfast.”
“Tough. I’ll meet you at your car in thirty.”
She gave him the finger, but he couldn’t see her so it wasn’t very effective. “Fine.” She tossed the phone on the night table, groaning as she sat up. Her eyes felt gritty and she wanted coffee and it was disgustingly early.
Her gaze traveled to the wall; her hand curled with the memory of Luke’s soft, short hair.
She considered going back to sleep. It had been so hard to find it last night. Her brain had tripped over itself with questions and rebuttals and decisions made in stone that turned to tissue in minutes. She’d painted her toenails, for God’s sake, while listening to a heavy-metal station. But O’Malley didn’t believe in random acts of kindness, so he wanted to talk to her. He probably already knew she’d been with Luke. She wouldn’t put it past him. She didn’t know how he knew half of what he did.
She sighed. If O’Malley wanted to talk about Luke, she’d tell him to mind his own business. Or she’d listen to him. She couldn’t decide which until she’d had coffee. Then she’d have another decision to make. Luke. Flying. God, she really craved more sleep, more oblivion. But she’d already agreed to meet O’Malley. So shower and sundress, blush, mascara, lip gloss. Her cell went in her purse, her feet went in her sandals, and she was out the door.
O’Malley wore his civvies, too, but he shouldn’t have bothered. He still looked every inch the master sergeant. The man probably slept at attention.
He took the keys right from her hand and got in behind the wheel. She didn’t bother arguing. Or speaking. But she pouted for all she was worth.
The coffee came in a to-go cup and her breakfast was a lousy egg-and-cheese sandwich from a drive-through. Even after driving through San Diego for half an hour, he still hadn’t said anything. If she could have gotten the keys back from the son of a bitch, she’d have left him in the middle of the lot where they’d finally parked. It helped a bit that the parking lot in question was at Black’s Beach, which was pretty and not as crowded as she’d imagined it would be on a warm Saturday morning.
She tossed her empty cup and wrapper into a trash can right before they hit the sand, then slipped off her sandals and stuck them in her bag. O’Malley didn’t take off his shoes. No surprise there. She couldn’t imagine him barefoot, could hardly imagine him at the beach at all, despite the evidence. They walked in silence until they were alone. “He ran into me last night.”
She contemplated not responding. Giving him a dose of his own— Oh, who was she kidding? “So this is about Luke?”
O’Malley nodded. “He dripped all over the carpet.”
“Why?”
“Because he’d just been swimming.”
“No,” she said, and her temper was right there, ready to rip. “Why did he run into you? Why are you telling me this? Out for breakfast, my ass.”
“He was worried about you. Thought you were unhappy.”
“So he went to your room?”
O’Malley gave her a sharp, brief stare. “Not in my room. In the hallway. I told him to go talk to you, not me.”
“Ah, so you’re wondering how that turned out.”
He grunted. “Just making sure I made the right call.”
“Huh,” she said, which was better than admitting she didn’t know the answer.
“I gave him points for noticing,” O’Malley said.
“Meaning, you’d noticed, too.”
He barely nodded. Like some kind of secret sign, something you’d get from a monk in a monastery, or as the covert signal that the bomb was about to be detonated.
“It was nothing. Van Linn was pissy that I hadn’t announced the TV appearance.”
“Van Linn’s a prima donna. Of course she was pissy.”
Sara felt the sun on her face. If they were to walk for long, she was in for a sunburn as she’d forgotten to bring sunscreen. “She could make trouble.”
O’Malley’s irritated sigh was louder than the surf.
Sara ignored it. “And you didn’t think it was the protesters, either.”
“Nope.”
“So you figured it was something to do with Luke, and that Luke thought he’d done something to make me worried.”
“Yep.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“Thanks.”
She shook her head. Definitely not how she’d pictured the day. Or her life. “Luke was great yesterday. On the drive, on the show. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.”
“And that’s a problem,” he said. Didn’t ask.
“Yeah,” she said. It didn’t seem wise to be pissy herself. She had no intention of telling O’Malley what had happened in the green room, and no way in hell would she hint at what happened in her room, but she still trusted the sergeant’s judgment a hell of a lot more than she trusted her own right now. “I had a very good hate going on, and he’s messing with it.”
“Because way back when, he dumped you like yesterday’s trash.”
A sharp pain stabbed through her. As she’d discovered last night, having sex and feeling betrayed were not mutually exclusive. “Please, don’t bother to sugarcoat it. Really.”
Another stare from O’Malley’s piercing eyes, not quite as brief.
“It wasn’t just that he dumped me,” she said. “It was when and how.”
“You were in love with him.”
She was tempted to tell O’Malley to butt out, but she wouldn’t. “I was. Deeply. Stupidly.”
“You believed he was in love with you.”
“Yep,” she said.
He slowed, waited for a group of teenage girls to run past them into the water. “You two never hashed it out?”
Sara tensed at the question. “Considering he dropped the bomb on me the day after we graduated, then left the day after that, no, we didn’t hash it out.”
“What was that, six years ago?”
“Seven. And you already knew that.” Her heart felt heavy, as if the weight of Luke’s betrayal had continued to grow despite her ignoring it. “He said he was sorry. That he loved me. That he just couldn’t do it anymore. It being me.”
“Harsh,” O’Malley said, and his voice had gotten softer, his pace slower.
She quickened her own, embarrassed about what had happened back then and what had happened last night. “Nothing’s ever hurt like that before or since.”
He halted. “It was cruel. Unforgivable.”
She nodded as she turned to her friend. “Yes.” Then she met O’Malley’s inscrutable gaze.
“I don’t know about relationships,” he said. “Never been in one that took, myself. But I know about people. Not regular folks. I’m talking about men in war.”
He held up his hand as she opened her mouth, cutting her off before she could start. “I said men and I meant men, because when it comes to romance, women confuse the hell out of me. Just shut up for a minute. I’ve seen men change. From the ground up. Be one kind of man before the fighting, and a different kind after. I don’t know Solo. He still could be a class one prick. But I know you. You liking him now doesn’t necessarily mean you’re being an idiot.”
“It’s not just the breakup,” she said. “It’s the current situation. I’m the supervisor on this gig. I have no business liking anyone.”
O’Malley’s brow furrowed. “There’s nothing in the regs say two captains can’t see each other on their own time.”
Sara pushed her hair back behind her shoulders. “When he first got here I almost sent him packing because you and I both know there’s enough rope in those regulations to strangle a captain who isn’t smart.”
“Then nothing to worry about, right?”
She snorted, and it wasn’t particularly dainty.
“You have a window of opportunity,” O’Malley said. “Don’t screw it up.”
Her gaze went to the ocean, past the breakers to the blue-gray horizon. “You think I should talk to Luke. You think we should hash it out, that I won’t be able to see him clearly until we get straight about what happened.”
“I don’t think much of anything,” O’Malley said, and she could hear a smile in his voice. One she liked to think he reserved just for her. “But I’m damn sure the woman you are today can handle the truth.”
“Tell me one thing, then,” she said, as she looked up at him. “This change thing. Is it for keeps?”
O’Malley nodded. “In my experience, it goes to the core. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be walking on a goddamn beach.”
LUKE SURVEYED THE CESSNA he’d rented. It was a beauty, just as he’d known it would be. Although he’d never met the owner, Bill Benedict was an ex-fighter pilot, so of course he’d care about his plane. They were a breed, fighter jocks, and Luke wore his membership proudly.
Luke headed to the tail of the plane, figuring he’d take his own walk-around before Benedict arrived, already instinctively gauging the wind and what it would feel like at one hundred forty-five knots. Brushing the metal alloy with his hand relaxed him. It wasn’t quite the rush of an F-15, but it was a solid reminder of who Luke was at heart, who he would always be. As he inspected the tail, a flicker of pale blue in the distance caught his eye. His hand dropped. “Sara.”
She smiled at him as she approached. Somehow she was here, her dark hair fluttering across her almost-bare shoulders. Her dress swirled around her legs, flattened at her stomach, curved around her breasts, and he could hardly breathe.
He’d given up hoping at ten-thirty. Even so, he’d kept checking his cell as he drove to the airfield.
She walked toward him, a white tote clutched tightly in her hand. Her toenails were painted pink. “I’m here. Still want me to be?”
“Always,” he said.
She was a foot away from him now, and he could see a hint of the sun on her nose and cheeks, caution in her eyes. “O’Malley dropped me off.”
Luke’s chest tightened as it hit him why he’d asked her here, what he was getting himself into. He grasped blindly at the idea of changing his mind when a silver-haired man drove up in a red Corvette convertible. Benedict. Too late.
Now that he was committed to the flight, Luke wanted this part over with quickly. He shook hands with the retired captain, introduced Sara, got straight to business. Bill wanted to talk about the war, and if Luke had been alone he’d have been happy to oblige, but he cut things short. Sara covered for his abrupt demeanor with her thanks when Benedict handed her a small cooler filled with iced bottles of water and sandwiches, a present from Mrs. Benedict.
Finally, it was done; Luke had given the man his check and Sara was belted in the passenger seat. Luke climbed into the cockpit and for the first time ever, it wasn’t an unmitigated pleasure. He’d wanted to talk to her in the safest place he could imagine. Where he couldn’t run away, where he couldn’t avoid the conversation with touches or so much as a kiss. Where she could have her say, uninterrupted.
As soon as they were in the air, fear got the better of him. He’d rather face a sky full of bogies at the moment. His fear wasn’t because he had to confess the worst behavior of his life, but because Sara liked him now. They’d laughed together, they’d talked and, sweet God almighty, tasting her last night had been the best thing that had happened to him in years. Bringing up the past would remind her what a sorry excuse for a man he’d been and probably still was, and that would just about kill him.
“I’ll bet you’re excited about the F-35,” she said, and from the rush of her words, it occurred to him that she was nervous, too.
That didn’t prevent him from jumping all over the excuse to delay. “Hell, yeah. It’s a beauty. It’s got amazing stealth capabilities plus the speed and strength of a born fighter. I’ve been talking to some of the test pilots, and they say she’s a sweet ride with hardly any gremlins at all. Better takeoff and landing, real flexibility, although it’s too fast for tight work, but…” He shook his head. “What I meant to say is, yes, I’m excited about the new jet.”
She laughed, and that was better than flying. Better than almost anything. Jesus. He wanted to touch her, take her hand in his, stay up in the blue for as long as he could just like this. But that was his selfishness talking. He’d sworn to stop being that self-centered ass. It was time to pay up. He looked at her and said goodbye to her smile.
SARA WATCHED HIM GATHER his courage. A deep breath, a slight flush on his cheeks, his hands tightening on the controls. She was pretty sure about the topic, but not sure at all what it would be like to hear the words.
“A lot of things changed for me when I was in Afghanistan,” he said. “After—” He shook his head, took another breath, tried again. “I had a lot of time to think.”
His shoulder twitched. This was hard for him, and it was an amazing contrast to see him stumbling when she’d seen him sweep up entire audiences with his poise and polish.
“You’re what I thought about,” he said. “Not the whole time because there were things to do, but after… When it mattered. It was you.”
She tried to make sense of what he’d said but gave it up after a few seconds. “I don’t understand.”
His Adam’s apple rose and fell. Twice, he looked out his side window, and twice he struggled to meet her eyes. Finally, Luke cleared his throat. “My behavior after graduation was unconscionable. Unbelievably cruel. You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m also sorry it took years, fucking years for me to even get that it was a despicable thing to do.”
She inhaled as her whole body trembled. Even being near him every day for these past weeks, she hadn’t realized how desperately she’d wanted to hear the words. She’d thought it would feel good, that she’d feel better.
“I don’t have any kind of excuse,” he said, and his voice sounded farther away. “Nothing. I wanted the perks, that’s all. I wanted to be free, to have all the women, to fly the fastest planes. I wanted to be everything I imagin
ed a fighter pilot should be. I believed…” He looked away then. Banked the plane, turned it around, and he didn’t speak again until it was flying straight once more. “I believed I deserved it all. That—I don’t know—that I was some kind of special… The rules didn’t apply to me. I knew you figured we would be together after college. That we’d get married. But when it came down to the wire, I chose something else.”
Another blow, even though he’d admitted being a selfish bastard on stage, in front of all those people way back at Lefty’s. She’d heard this before, so why did it feel as if she’d just been struck? She fought the tears burning in her eyes, the urge to weep like a child. But she had to ask. “When did you know?” Her throat was so tight, tighter than her fisted hands.
He didn’t answer for a long while. “The beginning of senior year.”
Another breath filled her lungs. Somehow, her heart kept on beating. “I thought you loved me.”
“I did.”
She winced.
He nodded, his face drawn and paler than it had been just minutes ago. “The closer we got to graduation, when I was accepted into flight school, I started going over what that meant. What it could mean to be a free agent. I knew it would hurt you. That we were part of your dreams. I should have warned you, given you time to adjust. How I handled it was vicious and cowardly.”
His voice broke on the last word. “I know it’s too little too late, but I am truly sorry. You were more than great. You were the best part. I didn’t know how great at the time. I didn’t deserve your friendship, let alone your love. I’m ashamed of what I did, and I wish I had a way to make things right, but I don’t.”
Sara wanted to be back at the motel. She never should have come with him. The sky was his territory, not hers, and if she’d had a parachute, she’d have leaped out the door.
God, he’d known at the beginning of senior year. She hadn’t been prepared for that.
