One of the Boys

by Merline Lovelace

  She made a few hasty notes and stuffed the folder into her tote to take home with her for yet another look. She put the other folders back in her drawer and glanced at the wall clock. She wanted plenty of time to prepare for her dinner date this evening with her enigmatic colonel.

  If Mac’s soft whistle when she opened her door to him later was any indication, her preparation time had been well spent. She felt the impact of his glinting approval from her hair, held up with combs on top of her head, down the length of the shimmery green silk pantsuit to her high-heeled sandals.

  “I’m not exactly sure how anyone encased in cloth from neck to toe can manage to look mostly undressed, but you come close.”

  “I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Maggie said, moving aside to let him in. “Wearing outrageous clothes is one of the few advantages a tall woman has in life over the dainty types.”

  Maggie smiled to herself as she turned to shut the door. She’d bought the outfit because of the way the silk clung sensuously to every curve. She didn’t have that many of them, and if this little outfit helped Mac notice the few she had, it was worth every penny.

  Mac would have disagreed with her assessment of her attractions had he known it. His eyes roamed appreciatively from her slender hips to her small high breasts. The jade-green tunic outlined them clearly, hinting at the nubs in their centers before falling in graceful folds. Surveying the way the fabric moved as Maggie did, Mac’s feelings underwent a subtle change. From masculine appreciation, he began to experience a possessive desire to keep Maggie’s curves to himself. He felt a surprisingly primitive urge to wrap her in a shapeless blanket so that only he knew what was beneath.

  Unaware of his thoughts, Maggie turned to pick up her small gold purse. Mac barely stifled a groan when the silk outlined the delicious curves of her derriere as she leaned down. It was with a somewhat grim expression that he escorted Maggie to his car.

  He managed to relax over dinner. The sight of Maggie demolishing a grilled red snapper, a generous portion of steamed rice and half a loaf of crusty French bread, along with a bottle of perfectly chilled chardonnay, restored his balance.

  Maggie sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “That was heaven.”

  “It’s nice to share a meal with someone who appreciates it,” he responded, lifting his wineglass in her direction.

  “Which is a very tactful way of saying I eat too much.” Maggie laughed. “I guess being tall has another advantage, besides allowing me to wear outrageous clothes. It takes a lot more to fill me up. And I can enjoy every morsel.” She grinned unrepentantly over the rim of her wineglass.

  “Yes, and I can think of at least one more advantage.” At her inquiring look, he stood and held out his hand. “I’ve been looking forward to dancing with someone whose nose won’t tickle my belly-button. Come dance with me, Maggie m’girl.”

  Mac decided he liked the feel of the woman in his arms. Very much. She fitted him perfectly. Ignoring the glances other men in the room directed at Maggie, he enjoyed the feel of her warm flesh through the smooth material as he moved his hand slowly up and down her back. To distract himself from what he could feel at her front, he nuzzled a soft tendril of hair that had escaped from the topknot and resumed their lighthearted dinner conversation.

  “So where did you work before coming here? You mentioned the Air Staff.”

  Held closely against Mac’s hard body, Maggie had difficulty remembering her own name, let alone her career history. Only after she’d shifted away from the warm cradle of his arms could she collect her thoughts.

  “Mmm, yes. I worked on the Air Staff in Washington for a year or so. It was exciting, but I didn’t care much for the paperwork. I decided I liked fieldwork better.

  “Houston was next,” she murmured into Mac’s obliging shoulder. Really, it was amazing she could talk at all. She found herself reveling in the sensation of dancing with someone whose shoulder was just the right height to rest her head on. Even with her high heels, the mountain retained his majestic proportions.

  “How long at Houston?” he asked, his voice low, his breath teasing the wispy curls at her ears.

  “Not quite two years.”

  “So why did you leave there to come here? That job must have paid twice what the government could pay you.”

  Maggie smiled into Mac’s shoulder. “I think I had this conversation once before with Ed Stockton. The same answer still holds. There’s more to life than money. I wanted to get back to hands-on environmental work, and Eglin has plenty of that.”

  Maggie leaned back in his arms to look up at him. Mac barely managed to suppress a groan as her breasts brushed against his chest. Damn that silk! He could feel the peaks of her breasts clearly through the material, distracting him so much he almost missed her soft words.

  “My needs in life are pretty simple, Mac. Some nice clothes, a good car and a challenging job, in reverse order, about sums them up.”

  “Isn’t there something missing from that list? Like a home and a family? Someone to cook for you?” he teased.

  Much as she liked him, Maggie’s habit of keeping her private life private was too ingrained to give Mac anything other than the barest details.

  “I’ve come close once or twice,” she admitted lightly. “But every time I thought I’d found Mr. Right, he turned out to be Mr. Wrong. Enough about me. What about you? What’s on your list?”

  “My priorities are pretty simple, too,” Mac answered as he moved them in time to the slow dreamy tune. “The boys and the air force, not in reverse order. I’m lucky. Between those two devils and the demands of a military career, I’ve never been still long enough to be bored.”

  “And that’s enough? What about someone to talk to in the night? About things besides soccer or Boy Scouts, I mean? Don’t you want to marry again?”

  “What makes you think husbands and wives talk in bed about anything other than Boy Scouts and grocery lists and who’s going to take the kids to the dentist?”

  At her mock scowl, he shrugged. “Like you, I’ve had a few close calls over the years. Being single and so physically big make me a real target it seems. But so far, it’s just me and the boys. And Woof.”

  Maggie buried a small sigh of satisfaction in the fabric of Mac’s shirt. She was glad Woof and the boys, and no one else, were taking up his time.

  Mac led her around the dance floor a couple of more times, then leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Let’s go, Maggie. I don’t think I can take one more man sliding his eyes over you in that slinky getup.”

  Maggie gave silent thanks once more to Nieman Marcus for her outfit and smiled her readiness to leave.

  She promised herself another shopping trip when Mac closed the front door of her apartment and growled, “Come here, woman. That thing you’re wearing has been driving me nuts all evening.”

  Maggie allowed Mac’s big hands to pull her close. He propped his shoulders back against the door, forcing her to put her palms on his chest and lean heavily against him. Her body was plastered against his from shoulder to knee.

  “This is much better,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her back. He bent his head to taste a spot on her neck bared by the upswept curls.

  Maggie kept her eyes closed. She kept her hands still where they pressed against his chest. But she couldn’t keep her nipples from tightening as Mac rubbed her front against his, or a hot streak from shooting through her when his moist tongue left her neck and pushed gently into her ear.

  Good grief, she thought, how did such a mountain manage to create such delicate shivers in every nook and cranny of her body? Then she forgot to think at all as his mouth took hers. He shifted her weight against his right arm. With his other hand he reached up to tug loose her curls. With a grunt of pure male satisfaction, he lifted his head to watch her hair spill down in a tumbling mass. That basic task done, he looked into her eyes.

  “I want you so much it hurts, but I suspect you won’t accept grits a
s a peace offering if I come on too strong again. So from here on out it’s your call. You set the pace, Maggie. Tell me what you want.”

  She opened her eyes and gave him a clear direct look. “I want you, Mac. It’d be nice to get you and grits, too, but I’ll settle for you.”

  “That’s all I needed to know.”

  With an easy movement he bent and scooped her up in his arms, then headed down the hallway toward the bedroom.

  CHAPTER 5

  Maggie reveled in another totally new sensation as Mac carried her through the dim hall. Being carried was even more exciting than having a shoulder at just the right height to rest her head on while dancing. As best she could remember, no man had ever tried to hoist her off her feet before. Talk her off her feet and into bed maybe, but nothing quite this physical. She began to appreciate that there was a lot more to this seduction scene than she’d experienced before. She rather liked it, she decided, enlivening the short trip down the hall by exploring Mac’s conveniently placed ear with her tongue.

  Mac reacted to her explorations with satisfying directness. He dumped her on the bed with more haste than finesse and was beside her before she could catch her breath. This time his kiss was fierce and hot and demanding. Maggie kept her eyes closed once more, but now her hands roved as feverishly as his. She plucked distractedly at the buttons on his shirt, not content until she’d undone enough to slide her hands inside. Crisp hair curled over powerful chest muscles, teasing the tips of fingers. She delighted in the touch and the scent of him, strong and hard and very male.

  When Mac slipped his own fingers under her satin tunic and shaped one aching breast, Maggie gasped. He slanted his mouth across hers more firmly, demanding her response. With a slow sure movement he pulled her body under his and pressed her down into the thick comforter.

  “Your body fits against mine as well horizontally as it does vertically,” he murmured. “I like being able to kiss most of the important spots without getting permanent spinal damage.”

  Maggie’s breath slammed out of her as Mac suited action to words. With a quick bend of his head, he closed his mouth over a breast. She felt him hot and wet through the silk. When his teeth took the nipple and teased it into taut stiffness, a shaft of pure sensation shot through her.

  He found the side button of her pants and slid them and her lace panties down to her ankles. With a muttered curse, he sat up to fumble impatiently at the tiny straps of her sandals. He finally pushed shoes, slacks and panties off in one tangled mass. Maggie reached for him and he turned back to her, but he caught both her hands loosely in one of his and stretched them over her head.

  “Let me look at you, Maggie. Let me drink in the sight of those long luscious legs and gorgeous gold curls.”

  Maggie blushed in the half-light. She felt indescribably wanton with her lower body naked and exposed to the cool night air, not to mention his decidedly hot stare and her satin tunic sliding sensuously over highly sensitized nipples. She twisted her hands free and undid the last of his shirt buttons.

  “Your turn, Mac. Let me look at you.”

  She pushed his shirt off shoulders so broad they blocked out all the light from the hallway when he leaned over her. Her hands fumbled at his belt buckle. With an impatient movement, he got up to rid himself of the rest of his clothes. Maggie gave in to the pleasure of watching him, then quickly pulled off her last piece of satin.

  She lay back and let her eyes rove with hungry appreciation over his massive body. He fumbled in his pants pocket for a small foil package and turned away for a moment. A warm glow lodged just under her heart at his unquestioned willingness to take responsibility for her protection. When he turned back, she eyed his rampant manhood in the dim light and bit back a grin. The man certainly ran true to size!

  She wondered briefly if it was possible to have too much of a good thing, then gave up all attempt at rational thought as Mac lowered himself to her side. One of his legs nudged her apart, and he slid a callused palm down her belly. His fingers tugged playfully at her nest of curls, then buried themselves in her wet heat.

  Maggie arched against him. Her breathing changed to shallow panting gasps as he moved his fingers in and out, slowly, deliberately, while his thumb explored the sensitive little nub at her core. His hands tantalized and roused her to fever pitch. When he lowered his head and took an aching nipple into his mouth once more, Maggie thought she would explode.

  “Not yet, Maggie my sweet,” he whispered. Removing his hand, he positioned himself atop her body. “First I want to feel you all around me.”

  Holding her head still with both hands, watching her eyes in the dim light, Mac pushed himself into her welcoming warmth.

  Long hot moments later, after his hands and his mouth and driving manhood had taken her to incredible heights of sensation, Maggie gave a hoarse cry. Waves of pleasure swamped her, and the darkness behind her closed lids shattered into splinters of bright light. Mac echoed her panting cry as her tightness gripped him in rippling waves. He muffled his shout of satisfaction against her neck and thrust deeply, following her over the edge.

  Hours later, or so it seemed to Maggie, she roused herself enough to run light fingers through the dark head resting on her breast. Mashing it to a pulp, really. Even with most of his weight on his forearms, Mac crushed her into the mattress. She wiggled and tried to shift to a more comfortable position, only to have him lift his head and grin down at her.

  “So soon, Maggie m’girl? Without even a nourishing snack to sustain your energy? Well, we fly-boys aim to please. If you’re ready, I’ll do my best.”

  “You big lummox, stop grinning or I might force you to make good on your boast.” Maggie tried again to shift him. He let himself be moved off her body only enough to insert his hand between them and cup her breast.

  “Boast? I never boast. But I need sustenance after a good workout even if you don’t. I think a little midnight feeding will do it.”

  Before Maggie understood his meaning, he’d lowered his head and began a slow sweet suckling at her breast. His hand pushed the firm mound up so his mouth could draw at the nipple, then covered half her breast with hot wetness.

  In total amazement, Maggie felt streaks of heat shoot through her again. And again, when he woke her up an hour later. Only after he’d pulled her on top of him and made her take her bedsprings to the limit of their endurance did he fall asleep himself.

  She awoke again just as gray dawn was beginning to lighten the room. Without having to reach across the bed, she knew he wasn’t there. She lay quietly, her eyes closed, while a series of incredibly erotic visions danced behind her eyelids. Lord, she hadn’t really moaned like that, had she? Her raw throat and the tenderness between her thighs mocked her own denials.

  She was about to bury her head in the covers at the thought of some of her more energetic activities when the unmistakable scent of fresh coffee reached her.

  Heavens, he was domesticated, she thought. Untangling herself from the bedclothes, she slipped on the faithful short terry robe and padded down the hall to the living room. She pulled up short at the sight of Mac, slacks riding low on lean hips and shirt hanging open to display that massive chest. He was leaning casually against her desk with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and an open folder in the other. Even from across the room, Maggie could see it was the propulsion-test folder.

  The warm greeting bubbling on her lips died. Her eyes fastened on the folder in growing consternation. Was that what all this was about? Had he wined and dined and put on that admittedly spectacular bedroom performance to change her mind about that damned test? Doubts swamped her, even as Mac looked up and met her suspicious gaze.

  His own slow smile of greeting died. There was no mistaking the direction of her thoughts as her eyes moved from the folder to his face. He watched her thoughtfully for a few moments, then greeted her in a neutral tone.

  “Morning, Maggie.”

  If the woman had a problem, he wasn’t going t
o help her with it. She could darn well spit it out.

  “I see you make yourself at home, MacRae. Anything else you’d like access to? After my body and my private reports, that is?”

  Whew! When she let loose, she did it with both barrels. Mac told himself to stay calm. There was nothing in this report he hadn’t already seen. It was government property, for Pete’s sake. Hell, he had a copy of it on his desk at work. Maggie’s own people had sent it over, as she’d remember if she hadn’t been so busy jumping to her angry conclusions.

  Still, Mac knew he shouldn’t have just picked it up and started reading while he waited for her to awake. He also knew he should apologize, but rational thought warred with stung male pride. The woman had just spent the night in his arms. How the hell could she think what she so obviously did?

  Pride won. Setting his mug down with a thump that sloshed coffee over onto the damned report, he started across the room toward her. When she backed away from him nervously, he stopped short. His jaw tightened ominously.

  “Dammit, Maggie, that report isn’t private. I’ve seen it several times. It was lying open on your desk.”

  “The point is, it was on my desk, MacRae.”

  Even as the words tumbled from her mouth, Maggie knew she was making too much of the whole thing, but she couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t had that many lovers during her otherwise adventurous thirty-three years. But based on her limited experience, she thought what she and Mac had shared last night was special. It hurt to think it may not have been so special, after all, but something rather sordid. Angry and confused, she wrapped her arms around her waist.