Night Call

by Radclyffe

  “Got you covered, no problem,” Tristan called after her. “I’ll be there Saturday and I’ll give Robin a hand with the game next week too.”

  Arly grinned back. “Okay. Have fun.”

  Tristan laughed. “She’s got Honor’s looks, Quinn’s persistence, and probably both their smarts. She’s going to give some boy or girl a run for their money one day soon.”

  “I think she’s got a crush on you,” Jett said.

  “Girls always get crushes on their coaches. It’ll pass.”

  “Not always.”

  Tristan gave her a look. “You’re right.” She opened the Saab with the remote. “You ready to get out of here?”

  Jett looked at the car, then back to Tristan. “This is crazy.”

  “No,” Tristan said softly. “Pretending we don’t want to would be crazy.”

  Jett didn’t say anything, she just got into the car. That was enough for Tristan, for now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tristan started the engine and powered down the convertible top. “No pets, right?”

  “Pardon?” Jett still didn’t entirely believe she was about to go off who-knew-where with a woman who by turns pissed her off and turned her on and made her want things she’d never thought of having. Like quiet moments in the sun and the sound of another heart beating in the dark. When she took in Tristan’s bold sharp profile, her dark hair still wet from the shower and gleaming in the sun, she didn’t feel as if she were with a stranger. Weathering a crisis together and struggling through the aftermath had a way of stripping away the veneer and letting you see people for who they really were. She’d seen Tristan under fire, more than once, and she knew her to be fearless and brave. She’d seen Tristan blame herself for perceived failures that were not her responsibility, and witnessed her pain. Jett recognized a warrior with a tender heart.

  “Dogs? Cats?” Tristan glanced over, blue eyes glittering. “Canary? Anything that needs food in the next twenty-four hours?”

  “I’ve spent my whole life being sent around the world with a few hours’ notice. I don’t even keep plants.”

  “Good.” Tristan pulled out and gunned the Saab down the street in the direction of the interstate. She didn’t plan on giving Jett any time to reconsider because she needed to get away, and she wanted Jett with her. She needed to leave the sadness behind and recharge where there were no schedules and no demands and no tragedies. Just the smell of the pines and the clean mountain air and a woman to share it with. Jett. Jett to share it with. Tristan hit the on-ramp and glanced at Jett. “Then we don’t have any reason to hang around here.”

  “Guess we don’t.” Jett was used to being driven to unknown destinations, only usually she was crowded in the belly of a troop transport or bouncing around in the hold of a plane or the back of a Jeep. Speeding out of the city with Tristan at the wheel couldn’t have been more different. Or more exciting. She stretched out her legs and tilted her head back. She must have sighed, because Tristan reached across the space between them and rubbed her shoulder for a second.

  “Tired? Feel free to take a nap.”

  “I’m good just like this.” Jett rolled her head on the headrest and squinted in the bright sunlight. Tristan glowed, and Jett almost touched her just to be sure she was real. “How about you? I think your night was a lot rougher than mine.”

  Tristan’s jaw tightened. “I’ll need a nap later. I’m all right to drive now.” She cut another quick look in Jett’s direction again before focusing on the road. “I didn’t have that much to drink.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that.”

  “I don’t make a habit of—”

  “Tristan,” Jett said gently. “I get it. Remember? I’ve had my fair number of shots first thing in the morning. Morning is relative when you’ve been on duty for God knows how long.”

  “I don’t know why last night got to me more than usual.” Tristan spoke slowly, as if the landscape of her own feelings were unfamiliar and dangerous territory. “I’ve had patients die before. Kids, pregnant mothers, twenty-five-year-old guys who should’ve lived to be eighty. I don’t know.” Her hands tightened on the wheel. “I just keep wondering if I did the right thing.”

  “Was there something else you could have done? Something you missed?”

  “Maybe.” Tristan laughed shortly. “Aren’t you supposed to assure me that of course I did the right thing?”

  “I probably would, if I didn’t know you.” Jett gripped Tristan’s forearm, then brushed her fingers over the inside of Tristan’s arm below her sleeve, caressing her soft, warm skin. Then she pulled back. “If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t mind blowing smoke at you.”

  Tristan exhaled slowly, trying to dampen her edginess. The barest touch of Jett’s fingers had her insides quivering. Her clit strained against the inside of her jeans. She ought to be used to the constant arousal by now—every time she was with Jett her body went in one direction, no matter what her head was doing. She forced herself to think about what Jett was saying, despite the urgent throbbing between her legs. “I’m glad you like me.”

  “So what do you think you should have done last night?”

  “Jesus, don’t you ever give up?”

  “Sometimes,” Jett said quietly. “We’re not talking about me.”

  “We never do,” Tristan said mildly.

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Quit stalling.”

  Tristan crossed lanes onto the expressway heading north. “Quinn warned us if I opened the incision to relieve the pressure on the baby’s chest she’d probably arrest. I did it anyway, and she arrested just like Quinn said. Even though we got a heartbeat back, it was all downhill from there.”

  “I was flying, but I could still hear what was going on. I’m not a medic, but it was pretty clear that baby was headed downhill a long time before you put her into my aircraft.”

  “You’re right. She was in bad trouble,” Tristan said. “And maybe if I’d seen that earlier and refused to transfer her—”

  “Oh, now you’re responsible for the judgment of the surgeons and neonatologists at the other hospital?” Jett shook her head. “You would have made a crappy soldier.”

  Tristan glowered at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You can’t accept that you are one link in a chain. You might be a vital link, but you’re still only responsible for part of what happened last night. Being part of that chain means you do your job and count on others to do theirs.”

  “I suppose you never took anything extra on yourself, huh? Captain McNally.”

  “Chief, and we’re not talking about me.”

  “Cut that out,” Tristan griped. “Jesus, you sound like a therapist.”

  “Hey,” Jett protested, “no need to get insulting.”

  Tristan grinned. “Did I mention one of my sisters is a psychiatrist?”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need. She’s given up trying to analyze me. Finally.”

  Jett heard the fondness in Tristan’s voice, but there was sadness there too. She suspected Tristan’s family had pressured her to change the way she felt about women. As if it was just a simple choice. “You did say your family didn’t always understand you.”

  “They all have the same picture of life. One I never had.” Tristan sighed. “Last night I did what I did up there in the helicopter because I believed that infant didn’t have four more minutes. Or even two.”

  “Then you made the right call,” Jett said.

  “Why are you so sure?”

  Tristan’s eyes were dark, pain-filled, when she searched Jett’s face. Jett leaned across the space between the seats and cupped the back of Tristan’s neck. She stroked her slowly, her fingers playing up and down the tight muscles. “I don’t have to be sure. You do.”

  “Usually I am. It’s been a rough month.” Tristan relaxed against Jett’s hand. “Damn, that feels good.”

  “I’ll finish when we get there.” Jett sifted Tri
stan’s hair through her fingers, then slid inside Tristan’s collar. She squeezed the ridge of muscle between Tristan’s neck and shoulder with deep, rhythmic compressions. “Your back could probably use some work.”

  “That would be great.” Tristan tried to sound casual, but her head swam and she had to force herself to watch the road. She didn’t want Jett to know that every caress made her blood surge. Darla got a charge out of teasing her while she was driving, playing with her until Tristan couldn’t hold back and laughing when Tristan flamed out. But even while Darla was making her come she didn’t have this kind of trouble focusing, and Jett was only rubbing her shoulder. She hadn’t felt this dizzy with need since she’d first discovered the miracle of girls, and then it was touching them that got her off. She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anyone to touch her as much as she did Jett. She prayed Jett wouldn’t stop.

  “There’s a lake,” Tristan blurted. “We can go swimming first.”

  “I’d like that,” Jett said drowsily. She probably shouldn’t keep touching Tristan, but Tristan’s skin was so damn soft. She rested her cheek against the seat and watched Tristan’s face as the clouds rolled by overhead and the wind sang through the car. She thought of walking barefoot on dusty roads, of lazy summer afternoons and cool shady ponds. “I haven’t been swimming in a long time.”

  “Then it’s about time.”

  “Yeah. Maybe it is.”

  Tristan drove on as Jett slept beside her, more settled than she had been in days, all from the simple touch of Jett’s fingers on her neck.

  *

  “We’re here,” Tristan said, gently shaking Jett’s shoulder.

  Jett opened her eyes and sat up. “Sorry. I just got too comfortable.”

  “I think that’s the idea.”

  “I don’t fall asleep in front of people.”

  “Never?”

  Jett shook her head. “Not the way I just did. A catnap, maybe. You could’ve dumped me out by the side of the road and I wouldn’t have known it.”

  Tristan laughed. “Believe me, getting rid of you was the last thing on my mind.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jett braced an arm on the door and pushed up with her legs, then swiveled and dropped over onto the ground. She put her hands on her hips and grinned. “What was on your mind?”

  “Oh, very smooth.” Tristan pocketed her keys and got out on the opposite side of the car. No way was she telling Jett she’d been fantasizing for the last twenty-five miles about lying next to Jett again, this time without clothes in the way. “I was thinking a swim, a bottle of wine, and some steaks.”

  Jett turned in a slow circle, surveying their destination. A one-story wood cabin with a broad front porch stood in a half-acre clearing surrounded by pines. A grassy slope led from the small knoll where they’d parked down to a still mountain lake. A short dock extended into the water. A canvas-covered boat was tethered to the dock. She couldn’t see any houses on either side of the cabin, but there were a few on the far side of the lake. It was just about midday, and the surface of the clear water reflected the sunlight like glass.

  “This is a great place.” Jett looked over her shoulder. Tristan was watching her intently. “Your family’s?”

  “No. They have a big compound in the Poconos. My sisters have cabins—well, they’re not really cabins, more like houses—on the family land. I opted for something smaller.”

  “And more private?”

  Tristan nodded ruefully. “I enjoy socializing with my family, but—”

  “Tough to bring dates?”

  “Not that so much anymore.” Tristan walked around the car and joined Jett. She looked out over the water, her expression brooding. “I might bring a date to dinner at the country club, but extended weekends aren’t exactly my style.” She met Jett’s eyes. “I’ve never brought anyone here.”

  “I’ve never been to a woman’s cabin before.” Jett shrugged, a dimple appearing to the right of her mouth. “I’ve never been to the country club, either.”

  Tristan rested her hand in the middle of Jett’s back. Jett’s shirt was damp with sweat and she imagined how slick her skin would be underneath it. She could almost taste the salt and feel the heat against her lips. A heavy ache settled in her stomach and her legs trembled. “Some night when you’re feeling masochistic, I’ll take you.”

  “How could I refuse an invitation like that?” Jett brushed a lock of hair from Tristan’s forehead with her fingertips. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “How private is private?”

  “No motors of any kind on the lake. I suppose we might scare a canoer if one wanders by.”

  Jett backed away a step and unbuttoned her shirt. She wore nothing underneath it. The dimple deepened as she watched Tristan’s eyes grow smoky. “You ready to go swimming?”

  “More than ready,” Tristan said hoarsely. She started down the gentle slope toward the water, her gaze never leaving Jett as Jett walked beside her, shedding her shirt. Jett was lean, muscle and bone beneath smooth bronze skin. The vee between her breasts was darker than the surrounding skin, left over, Tristan imagined, from the months beneath the broiling sun. A thick pink scar, three or four inches long, stood out on her left shoulder. It was fresh and it wasn’t an incision. Her stomach plummeted. It could only be a wound of some kind. While she knew intellectually that Jett had been in combat, she hadn’t absorbed the true reality. She wondered if anyone who hadn’t been there really could. Jett had not only seen death, she had faced it.

  “It wasn’t anything serious,” Jett said, knowing from Tristan’s expression that she had seen the scar. “A little bit of flying debris.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tristan gently touched the scar. Jett’s breast, a slightly paler, perfect oval, lay just below her hand, but she didn’t stroke downward to caress it. Jett was baring far more than her body, and Tristan knew it. “Is this the only one?”

  “Nothing else but bumps and bruises.” Jett caught Tristan’s hand and held it for a second. “Don’t feel bad. I’m one of the lucky ones.”

  “Okay.” Tristan smiled shakily. “I just don’t like thinking about you being hurt.”

  “It’s over now.” Jett rarely thought about the wound, because everything else about that night had been so much more critical. When Gail’s face flashed through her mind, she resolutely put the memory aside. Gail wasn’t here now. Gail wasn’t anywhere in her life. And Tristan was. “Tristan…”

  “What?” Tristan took off her shirt by the water’s edge, unzipped her jeans, and pushed them down. Then she kicked off her boat shoes and was naked.

  Jett halted with her zipper halfway down, drinking in Tristan’s body. Shorter by an inch, Tristan was more muscular, her thighs and chest thicker. Tristan’s breasts were broader than hers and Jett imagined the weight of them in her hands. As if she had touched them, the dark nipples tightened and Tristan’s breasts rose.

  Tristan shuddered in a breath. “I like the way you look at me.”

  Jett’s control slipped a notch. They were already on dangerous ground. If she let go, if she touched her, one touch would never be enough. “I don’t know what you’re expecting—”

  “Nothing,” Tristan said quickly. “Nothing. Just for us to be here for a while.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Take your clothes off. Come in the water.” Tristan turned and dove. She was underwater for a long time, her path marked by faint ripples on the surface.

  Jett shed her shoes and the rest of her clothes and waited until Tristan surfaced. Then, marking the spot, she took a breath and followed her. The cool water closed over her, and she swam with her eyes open. After three strong strokes she saw the pale outline of Tristan’s body in the water. Tristan’s breasts swayed gently, beckoning to her. Jett stroked closer and then surfaced, her body brushing Tristan’s. She scissored her legs between Tristan’s, cupped the back of her neck, and covered Tristan’s mouth with hers. Tristan groane
d and wrapped her arms around Jett’s shoulders, opening her mouth to draw her in.

  The sun beat down on Jett’s shoulders, but it was nothing like the desert. Water lapped at her throat and cooled her feverish body. And Tristan was nothing like any woman she had ever touched. Her body was powerful and strong, made stronger by her yielding. Tristan broke the kiss and Jett felt teeth on her neck. She tilted her head back and let Tristan take more. When her control snapped and she was seconds from sliding her hand between Tristan’s legs, she grasped Tristan’s shoulders and pushed away from her. She kicked back, dunked her head, and came up flinging the hair from her eyes.

  “It’s not physically possible to do what I want to do to you out here,” Jett said.

  “How do you know?” Tristan swam toward her, her eyes on fire. “How many women have you fucked in a lake?”

  “How do you know that’s what I had in mind?” Jett said.

  “If it isn’t, I’m in trouble.” Tristan gripped Jett’s shoulder, kicking gently to stay upright in the water. “Are you going to make me beg you?”

  “That’s not what I want. But you might not want what I—”

  “Believe me, I do.” Tristan let go and drifted back away from Jett. “But I don’t want you thinking about what I want when you’re making love to me. I don’t want you thinking about anything.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “Then we should get our clothes on and I’ll make something to eat.” Tristan stroked swiftly to shore and climbed out of the water.

  Jett, treading water slowly, watched her get dressed. Then she made her way in to shore as Tristan climbed the hill toward the cabin. Pulling her clothes over her wet body, she told herself she’d held back because Tristan didn’t know what she was asking. But there’d been another reason too. Jett walked up the hill, thinking she’d already come too close to completely losing control, and all she’d done was kiss her.