She hesitated long enough for him to fear she was weighing the risk of asking to stay with him. “The Belleview-Biltmore in Clearwater. Call my cell. The number hasn’t changed.”
After confirming he’d call the next day, Stillman grabbed his keys and headed out the door. Maybe he could bribe flight ops and get a training assignment tomorrow. Spend time with a certain hard-to-reach pilot.
Clearwater, FL,
Tuesday, 20 September, 1900 hours
Caitlyn threw her whole body into the dance, letting the throbbing bass music drown the ugly memories she still hadn’t forgotten. She grinned at Ryan as he gamely tried to keep up with her. But he’d had three Coronas to her two Diet Cokes and was quickly losing ground.
The tempo changed and Ryan’s eyes widened as if he’d lost an engine on takeoff. A sharp jerk of his head followed and he gestured toward the table, where the rest of his birthday revelers sat. She nodded and did a quick shimmy followed by a twirl. It would take a whole lotta shakin’ to erase the images of the dead children they’d pulled from the Gulf yesterday.
She squeezed her eyes closed and twirled again. She needed a whole lotta shakin’—
Strong hands on her hips stopped her before she reversed direction and startled her eyes open. Stillman’s broad smile immediately warmed the chill shrouding her heart.
“Hey, stranger, I’m jealous of my cell phone,” she said. “It’s had more conversations with you than I have.” They hadn’t connected, other than voice mail and text messages, since their one and only date. Without thinking she slipped her arms around his waist and kissed him hard on the mouth. Secrets or not, he was exactly what she needed tonight.
His appreciative once-over made her happy she’d dressed up for the impromptu party. With her heels, she stood over six feet tall and could damn near look him in the eye. He took her hand in his and spun her around as the DJ announced an upcoming break in the music.
“I heard about Ryan’s birthday celebration and thought I’d crash it in hopes you’d be here.” Stillman reeled her back into his arms before spinning her around again.
“I’m glad you did. Now, shake your booty. We’ve got one more dance before the music stops.”
He grinned and did exactly what she told him.
Oh, goody, a man who could follow directions.
* * *
Stillman hardly registered the sleek, sexy redhead as the kick-ass pilot he knew as Queeny before his battle-tuned radar picked up something wrong with the scene before him. Caitlyn’s smile looked fake, her dancing just this side of manic. Something bad must have happened. He glanced over her gyrating shoulders to the table where her crew sat. Everyone was accounted for, but that didn’t mean all was well.
Caitlyn did a bump and grind against him, her eyes half-closed. The desperate feel to her movements sapped the joy right out of them.
The music wound down and Stillman hustled Caitlyn toward a side patio. “Let’s get some fresh air. Then you can tell me what the hell’s going on,” he said against her ear. Her spicy scent and the silk of her hair brushing his face tightened his groin. Down, boy. Normally he didn’t have a problem using sex as a distracter, but nothing about what was happening between him and Caitlyn could be classified as “normal.”
“Nothing’s going on. Dammit,” Caitlyn stopped herself, then blinked rapidly as her eyes filled.
Shit, tears. He didn’t deal well with inexplicable female emotions.
She inhaled sharply and looked up at the night sky. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to fall apart on you or anything.”
He let her continue to examine the heavens in silence, while his gaze wandered uncensored over her curves. The stretchy white dress emphasized all the covered bits to perfection. If he hadn’t seen the uniformed version first, he’d never believe her capable of anything more challenging than selecting the right color polish for those lethal-looking fingernails.
“Hey, these don’t look like they’d pass inspection,” he said capturing her hand in his, generating a slightly damp smile. “Sometimes talking about the bad things helps,” he added quietly, his gaze searching hers.
She nodded and wrapped both hands around his before nestling them between her breasts.
He barely repressed a contented sigh. Before Caitlyn, he’d always considered himself a leg man. Now, he couldn’t think of anything but her—
“We were dispatched to intercept a small boat overflowing with Haitians. They were about fifty miles offshore when their craft began breaking up. It was dusk, and the sharks were circling when we arrived on scene.”
It took Stillman a moment to transition his brain. Then the impact of her words hit him like a belly kick. He tugged her against his chest and draped his free arm around her shoulders. But she didn’t bury her head. Instead, she met his gaze with fierce determination.
“We rescued eight survivors, all but two under the age of four. The rest—” She stopped to swallow and he felt a tremor pass through her. “Clay, our rescue swimmer, refused to abandon the dead to the ocean...or the sharks. It was his first body recovery operation, and it was about as nasty as it could get.”
* * *
She took another deep breath and Stillman felt as much as saw her resolve harden. “He did a phenomenal job. Joe, our hoist operator, and I submitted Clay for a commendation. Joe saw him smacking sharks with pieces of the boat to keep them away from the babies.”
Her voice cracked, but she didn’t fold. “We’re all pretty shook up over it, but Clay’s struggling with guilt, and dammit, there’s nothing I can do about it.” She hooked a length of hair behind her ear and glared at him. “Men and their stupid egos.”
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He slipped his hand from between her breasts, with only a halfhearted nudge of plump flesh, and pulled her closer.
She smiled at his adolescent slip. “Ryan’s convinced Clay has a crush on me, so I’ve been ‘instructed’ to keep my distance. It sucks. The kid’s hurting, and he’s part of my crew, and—”
Stillman stopped her with a quick kiss. “He’s right. Hell, your whole crew’s probably half in love with you.” And didn’t that just bite the big one?
He studied her troubled expression. “Want me to talk to Clay? I’ve had a lot of experience with what he’s going through.” Dealing with dead and dying children had been especially hard his last tour of duty in the Middle East, but he’d gained some perspective. And a sense of quiet acceptance he could share with the kid.
Her small frown smoothed out and her eyes lit with a tentative, relieved smile. “Yeah, I’d like that. As an ER doctor, I bet you’ve dealt with lots of hopeless situations.”
Now probably wasn’t the time to bring up his army career. But sooner or later he’d have to tell her.
And find out just why she refused to date men in the military.
* * *
Caitlyn slid into the booth beside Ryan as Stillman led the decidedly subdued rescue swimmer away from their table.
“What’s up?” Joe asked craning his head over his shoulder to watch Clay disappear through the doorway to the patio.
“He offered to have a talk with Clay about what happened. Try to give him a different perspective.” Caitlyn picked up a tortilla chip and loaded it with spicy ground beef, salsa, guacamole and a dollop of sour cream. “I thought with his medical experience maybe he could relate better than we could.”
Funny, she hadn’t been hungry when Joe ordered the assorted plates of appetizers, and now she was starving.
“His war experience is probably more relevant,” Ryan said before stuffing a quesadilla in his mouth.
Caitlyn choked on her nacho and he slapped her on the back several times. “You okay? Did you get one of my jalapeños?”
“What war experience?” Joe asked. He looked from Caitlyn to
Ryan.
“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Caitlyn half turned on the bench seat.
“He didn’t tell you? He’s an army slug driver. In the Reserves and just back from Afghanistan. But he was full-time during....” He stared at Caitlyn. “Shit, he didn’t tell you.” He looked away and took a long swig of his beer.
Shocked, Caitlyn sat back. That son of a bitch flew Black Hawks? Her stomach rebelled over the nacho she’d just swallowed. She was familiar with the term “slug driver” because that was what her uncle had been in the Iraq War.
How he’d died.
She grabbed Ryan’s beer out of his hand and finished it for him. “No, he didn’t tell me.”
In war situations, helicopter-pilot life expectancy was notoriously short. She slammed the empty bottle on the table. Dammit, why the hell would the army waste a doctor’s skills on flying in the first place?
* * *
Stillman sat across from Ryan when Caitlyn dragged Joe to the dance floor. Clay followed them a second later, quickly forming a laughing, gyrating threesome.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Ryan said, watching his crew members cutting loose. He turned back to Stillman. “What did you say to Clay? He hasn’t cracked a smile since yesterday afternoon.”
Stillman glanced at the dancers and shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes it helps to have a different take on...an incident.” The kid had clearly done all he could, but guilt, he knew, didn’t pay much attention to logic.
Ryan lifted his empty beer bottle and picked at the label with his thumbnail. “You know, Caitlyn’s different. Not only because she’s the best damn pilot I’ve ever had the privilege to fly beside.” He regarded Stillman with cool green eyes. “Thing is, she doesn’t see it. Despite the royal act, she thinks she’s one of the guys.”
Stillman bit back a snort. Queeny would never be “one of the guys.”
A waitress arrived to collect empty beer bottles and Stillman ordered a Corona. Ryan waved away his offer for a refill.
Ryan fingered the damp coaster left from his drink. “Don’t get me wrong, Caity will take charge of a situation in a heartbeat. She can’t seem to help it.” He blew out his breath on an awkward chuckle. “I guess I’m just saying she’s special. Make sure you treat her that way.”
Stillman saluted Ryan with two fingers. “Message received.” He didn’t see any reason to mention the flight officer had already delivered a more convincing threat.
“Uh, I’m afraid I outed you.”
In the midst of patting his empty chest pocket for cigarettes, Stillman squinted at Ryan. “That would be a little hard to do since I’m not gay.” He aborted his furtive search. Shit, in a moment of insanity, prompted by the last conversation with his ex, he’d quit smoking. For Queeny.
Ryan laughed and shot a quick look at the dance floor before returning his attention to Stillman. “Yeah, I got that loud and clear. I’m talking about your Reserve Army status.” He picked up a couple more coasters and began shuffling them back and forth. “I didn’t realize you hadn’t told Caity, or I would’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Well, hell, that explained the overbright smile Caitlyn gave him when he’d returned to their table with Clay. But it didn’t explain Ryan’s behavior. “Why would you be willing to keep a secret from a crew member you respect?”
Or, maybe he’d read the copilot right the first time. The “outing” had been deliberate. A way to get Stillman out of the picture so Ryan could keep Caitlyn for himself.
“You’re different from her usual doctor dates.”
The coaster shuffling stopped. Stillman met his look without blinking. Ryan might have home field advantage, but Stillman had more years of experience. And Queeny was a woman who called for a lot of...experience.
The conversation stalled when the waitress delivered Stillman’s beer. He took a healthy swallow and let the bitter bite ease some of the tension from his belly. He wasn’t afraid of a little Coastie competition.
“Caitlyn dates doctors, does she? Looking for a wealthy husband?” Hard to imagine, but then she’d come from a large family with little money. That tended to color a woman’s perspective on marriage, something he’d learned from Hilary.
Ryan’s eyes widened before he burst out laughing. “Hell, no. Caity-girl wouldn’t give up her commission for any amount of money.” He tossed the coasters on the table. “No, she needs a guy who can stand up to her. She figures doctors’ egos are about as big as hers.” He grinned, leaned over the table and punched Stillman’s bicep. “Hell, you’ve got ’em all beat. You’re a doctor and a military helo pilot. They don’t make egos bigger than yours.”
* * *
Caitlyn watched Ryan cuff Stillman’s shoulder. “What the heck is he doing, bonding with the enemy?”
“Lighten up,” Joe said, crowding her on the dance floor. “You liked him well enough before you knew he was army.”
She stopped dancing and glared at Joe. “Hey, just whose side are you on?”
He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders. “Yours, Queen B. Always yours. Look, the waitress has Ryan’s birthday cupcake ready.” He turned and motioned Clay over. “Come on, we have to help embarrass the son of a bitch.”
The Mexican bar and grill, an unofficial Coastie hangout, was known for staff who took delight in singing bawdy sailing songs for any and all celebrations. Caitlyn had called ahead to arrange the party. Part payback for the one Ryan gave her on her birthday, and more importantly, to get Clay out of the funk he’d been in.
Stillman’s hearty laugh rose above the off-key singers and her chest tightened. He looked over and caught her staring. She angled her head up and gave him her best Mona Lisa smile. Dr. Butt Head wasn’t going to know what hit him.
Caitlyn slipped her arm around Joe’s waist and ignored his surprised chuckle. While she had no intention of using her crew to make Stillman jealous, she did want him to know they were her family. Unlike the army, the battles her crew fought rarely involved guns, but the specter of death rode them hard on every mission. The bonds they forged were as tight, and unbreakable as any of those Black Hawk crews developed.
Catcalls, whistles and loud clapping accompanied the final birthday refrain from the singing waitstaff. Ryan’s face matched the booth’s red vinyl when Caitlyn, Joe and Clay joined him. Stillman stood, then slid in next to Caitlyn, sandwiching her between him and Ryan while Joe and Clay sat across from them.
“Just how old are you?” he asked, leaning against Caitlyn from shoulder to knee to see Ryan on her far side, scattering her thoughts like rain in the wash of Fly Baby’s rotor.
“He’s the old man of the crew now,” Joe said as their waitress set bowls of fried ice cream in front of each of them.
“Hey, only thirty-one,” Ryan clarified between bites of dessert.
Stillman’s body tensed against Caitlyn.
She turned in time to catch a questioning look aimed at her. Great, would he think she was too young for him?
Stillman shifted again, this time running a length of her hair between his fingers before tucking it behind her ear. “So, you’re what, twenty-nine or thirty?”
She could only nod, her voice suddenly gone at his touch. A girl could float for hours in the warm blue of his eyes.
Caitlyn heard Clay’s laugh but blood thundered through her ears under Stillman’s intense appraisal. Her crew’s presence, along with the clink and buzz of restaurant noises faded, her body and brain convinced she and Stillman were alone.
Ryan snapped his fingers in front of her face and she jumped.
“Army, what rank are you?” he asked, pressing against her like an overbearing big brother.
Maybe she shouldn’t encourage such close family feelings. She poked her elbow in Ryan’s ribs, smiled at his muffled grunt and almost missed Stillman’s quiet re
ply of, “Colonel.”
She sat up. Either he was a lot older than he looked, or he was very good at his job.
“Full bird?” Joe asked, then whistled when Stillman nodded.
A cold fist squeezed Caitlyn’s stomach. Army promotions only came early for one reason. War experience. Violent, often deadly, and decidedly heroic.
She set her dessert spoon on the table and crossed her arms over her stomach. Problem was, after Johnny died, she’d vowed never to love another hero. That most definitely included a sexy doctor who apparently flew army Black Hawks for fun.
“Well, I can see you’re hard at work with your volunteer activities,” a decidedly sarcastic female voice said from the end of their table.
Stillman froze then swore softly under his breath. Caitlyn looked past him into the frosted gray eyes of a sophisticated-looking blonde. Mid-to late-thirties, the woman was impeccably dressed in a raw silk sheath the peach of a tropical sunset. Her expression, however, was more of a storm warning.
“Hilary, what a surprise. Actually, this is my new Coast Guard crew. We’re celebrating our copilot’s birthday,” Stillman said with what Caitlyn thought was commendable calm. “Everyone, this is my ex-wife, Hilary Gray.”
Hilary narrowed her eyes at the “ex” qualifier and Caitlyn didn’t bother hiding her smirk. This was getting better and better. Hadn’t Stillman said his wife left because he hadn’t given her luxury cars?
She thought of Stillman’s little two-seater plane and his fierce joy in flying aerobatics. No way did Mrs. Ex belong with Dr. Butt Head. And while Caitlyn wouldn’t risk her heart on him, she saw no reason to let that barracuda think for one second she could have him back.
* * *
“Relax, Caity’s got everything under control,” Ryan told Stillman.
His assertion did little to calm the acid shooting holes in Stillman’s gut. Caitlyn had neatly herded Hilary to the bar for a private “girl talk.” He hadn’t heard any screams yet, so maybe they really were talking.
Jayhawk Down Page 5
