by Jo Leigh
He cooled his damn jets. Just because he’d been an idiot didn’t mean he had to be a dick. She’d been kind. And he’d be thankful. He would. Any minute now. “Of course it was. You’re amazing.”
“I’m your friend.” She grabbed her panties and slid them on while she was still under the covers. After a moment’s hesitation, she got up, turned around and put on her bra.
He closed his eyes until he heard the sound of denim sliding up her legs.
When she faced him again, it was with a hesitant smile. “I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose the most important thing in your life.” She touched him again, and it was all he could do to stay calm. “I couldn’t stand you being in so much pain.”
He nodded. Now it seemed so obvious. She’d been carried away by the moment. That was all.
“Your friendship means the world to me. I just got you here, and I don’t want to mess that up. I hope I haven’t made a mistake.”
“No,” he said, and there was a part of him, the part that wasn’t bleeding, that was telling her the truth. “You didn’t. We’re fine. Honestly. I’m so glad you were here yesterday. And last night.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Sure you don’t want to sneak in a cup of coffee for the road?”
“No, thanks. I want to get home. Shower. But tell you what, let’s have lunch this week, okay? Maybe on the base, or I could take you somewhere you might not have tried.”
“I owe you, not the other way around. The house looks great.”
She frowned as she slipped into her sandals. “We’re not done yet.”
“I’ve got it covered. I already stole too much of your weekend. Let me go get that toothbrush.”
He headed straight for the bathroom, opened the package he’d stored under the sink and left her the pink brush. He didn’t look in the mirror at all.
7
EMMA HALTED three steps into the faculty lounge. It was the second time that day she’d forgotten what she’d come in there for. Dammit. It was all Sam’s fault.
He hadn’t called her since Sunday morning, and now it was Wednesday, and she hadn’t stopped thinking about him for five minutes. Okay, that was a slight exaggeration, and it technically wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t get him off her mind, but it felt better to blame him nonetheless.
Because if she didn’t blame him, she’d have to blame herself, and who was she kidding, she knew that what had happened was totally on her. She’d had one job. One. Don’t get romantically involved with Sam. The past seventy-two hours was a prime example of why that rule had been put in place.
Pure instinct had driven her to offer comfort. She’d seen his pain, and it had been so achingly familiar she couldn’t have done anything else. That her response had been so physical was only slightly surprising. Their mutual attraction had been simmering for ages, but even with all that history she’d never imagined that sleeping with him would be the most...what? Fantastic sex she’d had in years? Confusing thing in the world? Unintentionally brilliant move she’d ever made? Or all of the above?
She knew the right answer. What to do with the jumble that was her mind was another problem altogether.
After pulling out her chilled lunch bag, she closed the fridge, but didn’t head back to her office. It was that third option that stopped her. Unintentionally brilliant? She’d had bits and pieces of thoughts heading down that road, but she’d cut them short. What would it even look like if that wasn’t a one-shot deal? If she and Sam became lovers?
The shiver that went through her was an indication of her body’s vote, but her body wasn’t always a reliable source. She’d made the decision not to get involved with Sam based on a past that couldn’t be ignored.
Aside from everything else, Sam didn’t even know the real truth about her and Danny. Once he did, this debate would most likely be over.
So, not brilliant. Although maybe not a disaster, either. What if she just put everything on hold? Waited until she talked to him, explained about Danny first, and then, later, how she wouldn’t even entertain the notion of being with Sam if he’d still been flying.
Would he understand? She wanted to think so, but he hadn’t called her since Sunday, and what did that say? Maybe he was fully invested in the two of them remaining friends. The last thing he needed was to enter into a tricky relationship when his whole world had been turned upside down.
She winced at the image of his face when she’d showed him that picture. She could count on having that stupid move come back to haunt her for years to come. What had she been thinking?
Although it had led to spectacular sex, and good grief, her knees felt wobbly as she remembered the way he’d touched her. How his kisses had left her breathless, and how much she wanted to wake up in his arms again. Only next time, she wanted to stay for coffee and have her own toothbrush.
Pausing to get her mail, she remembered to pull her cell out of her purse. She hadn’t turned it on, since she’d had back-to-back classes and office hours in between. There were two voice mails. The first she immediately ignored because the second one was from Sam.
“Emma, hi. I wanted to thank you again for all you did to help me move in. Of course you left me not only with a deskful of really interesting-looking containers and no idea how to use them, but more important... While I appreciate the idea of a fountain, and the theory that trickling water sounds are relaxing, all it’s done so far is make me want to pee ten times a day. So we’ll see.... Anyway, thanks again. Uh, thanks.”
Her grin had begun at the sound of his voice. By the third word, the butterflies had started fluttering so hard she’d pressed her lunch bag to her tummy. The fountain bit made her laugh, and even his awkward ending was totally endearing.
She replayed the message, and had the exact same reaction, only more so.
“Well, at least we know she’s not in a fugue state.”
At the sound of Sharon’s voice, Emma spun around. She hadn’t even realized. Her friend was sitting at a table not ten feet away, and Gary was right next to her. Esme Trajillo, the ESL teacher, was also in attendance, her lunch salad almost finished. “How long have you guys been here?”
“Since you walked in looking like a zombie,” Sharon said. “At least until you listened to that call. Who brought you out of your trance?”
Emma busied herself with putting her cell back in her purse so her friends wouldn’t see her heating cheeks. “Just an old friend.”
“Does this friend know how to bowl? Because Carla can’t make it and we were already down to bare bones. I don’t want to be out of the championships because we don’t have a full team.”
“We’re two and seven, Sharon,” Gary said. “I don’t think we have to be too worried about the championships.”
“I always worry,” Sharon said, returning her attention to her sandwich. “It’s my natural state.”
Ignoring her, Gary turned to Emma. “Joining us?”
“Can’t today. I’ve got a class I’m not ready for after lunch, then I have a tutorial. But I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
“You bet,” he said. “You sure you’re all right?”
Emma wondered what he meant, but couldn’t make anything out of his expression. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Good,” he said. “Tomorrow.”
She nodded, still puzzled, and headed for her office. She hadn’t been completely honest with them. She did have a class and a tutorial, but she was prepared for both. What she intended was to return Sam’s call.
First thing she’d do—ask him to come bowling. It was a perfect way for them to see each other again. Neutral territory, plenty of folks around. It was fun, too, so it might lift his spirits. Besides, he needed to make more friends now that he was stationed here.
It bothered her a little that he hadn’t brough
t up the dinner he owed her. Not that she cared about the meal itself, but rather that it wasn’t like him not to mention it. The most important thing to her was that no matter what, the two of them remained friends. Whether or not there was more to it than that, well... Dammit, why was she even going there? Before she saw him again, she’d better be real clear that being friends was it for them.
She had to shift over in the hallway to get past a gaggle of young women who were all gathered around one particular girl, someone Emma didn’t recognize, on a cell phone. Clearly speaking with a boy. The girl was doing the hair-fling, the blushing, the grinning and the nervous shuffle, the traditional mating call of young love.
It wasn’t until Emma had almost reached her door that it hit her why Gary had been concerned about her. While she hadn’t played with her hair, she was guilty of all the rest.
Oh, crap. She and Gary had been moving along so nicely, too. Sure, it had been slow as molasses, but she’d liked it that way, and had even been responsible for the slower pace. In fact, bowling had set their friendship in motion. It had been on one of their league nights that they’d decided to run together. Yet she still wasn’t sure she wanted the relationship to go anywhere.
Obviously. She hadn’t slept with Gary after a couple of months but she’d slept with Sam the second time she’d seen him.
Groaning to herself, she shut the door behind her and put her lunch bag on her desk. She took her cell phone out once more and simply stared at it. Would bringing Sam to the lanes while Gary was there be a problem? She doubted it. Nothing happened at bowling except bad shoes and the occasional gutter ball.
God, she hoped she wasn’t being foolish. It was bound to be harder to see the charm of Gary with Sam around. He was so much more...more.
She sat down, not even a bit hungry, and pressed Sam’s number before she lost her nerve. The flutters began before the first ring, and by the time he answered, she’d completed the quartet of mating rites by twirling a lock of her hair around her finger.
“Sam. How would you like to go bowling tomorrow night?” she asked with exactly no preamble. “Remember I told you about needing a ringer? We’re a man down, and we could use your help.”
“Uh—”
“And, it’ll be fun.”
“In that case, I don’t see why not. This is an amateur league, right? I think I warned you that I bowl about as well as I dance, and I don’t dance.”
“You’ll fit right in, I promise.”
His chuckle made her blush as she rolled her chair back to the credenza. God, she could be the poster girl for adolescent crushes. Which was ridiculous. She’d known Sam far too long to be acting this way.
“You got my message?”
“Yep, and don’t ditch the fountain yet. You’ll get used to it.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“Yes. Maybe. I’m pretty sure.”
“Can’t argue with that,” he said, his tone dry as a bone.
She giggled. Giggled! “If you hate it in another week, we can renegotiate.”
“I suppose I can make it through another week. While I’m thinking about it, I won’t need to keep score at this bowling thing will I?”
“No. We have a mathematician who takes care of that. I mean our team does. We don’t hire mathematicians for everyone.”
He laughed, she smiled, and it felt pretty darn good until she started wondering about seeing him for the first time since...that...in front of all her friends. Maybe it would be better to get that part over with. In public, of course, so she wouldn’t do anything stupid.
That she even had to worry about being a dope was troublesome enough. “You know, I’m here on the base, and I was thinking about grabbing some lunch. Are you in the area?”
“Oh, no. I’m not,” he said. “I’m at a bike showroom across town, taking a look at a Hayabusa.”
“What is that, a mountain bicycle?”
“Ah, nope. It’s one hell of a motorcycle. Named for the Japanese peregrine falcon.”
Emma’s heart plummeted as Sam’s voice rose in excitement. A motorcycle. The one thing she and Danny had argued about more than any other. More than money, more than him going out with his fellow pilots. He wanted one of those sleek racing bikes so badly he’d tried to win her over time and time again. She’d been adamant. The way he drove a car made her crazy. The way all the hotshot pilots drove bordered on suicidal, and she’d had nightmares about him spinning out on a bike.
Wow. She’d certainly gotten carried away. Sam, who was going on about engine size and Brembo something brakes, was a pilot, through and through. Whether he was in a cockpit or in a classroom, he was still a fighter jock, a man who lived for speed.
What was wrong with her that she continued to be so attracted to men with a death wish? Sam and Danny were cut from the same cloth; she’d always known that. That need for speed was one of the things that had almost done them in before the accident. What Sam didn’t know, what no one knew, was that she’d been planning to ask Danny for a divorce. She simply hadn’t been able to handle coming in a distant second.
There was a good reason she and Sam could be nothing more than friends. No matter how great the sex had been, or how much she liked him. Having her heart shattered once was enough.
“Emma?”
“It sounds great,” she said, not even caring if her response matched the conversation.
“Yeah, I’m still gonna look around some more, though. Can’t make a decision like this on a whim.”
“No, you can’t,” she said, hoping he meant it. “I’ve got to get going, but I’ll text you the address of the bowling alley, although there is only one in town.”
“See you tomorrow night,” he said.
She hung up and rolled her way back to her desk. No more hair twirling for her. Which was probably for the best. They should be friends. Casual friends. The trouble was, if anything happened to him, it would still hurt like hell.
* * *
WEARING HIS SHORT-SLEEVED uniform again after being in civvies felt good, like home. Or as close to home as possible now that he was living in an alternate universe.
He wasn’t going to think about anything but the meeting he was about to attend.... Nope. Not yet. As he made his way from the Suzuki dealership to the base, he couldn’t help thinking about Emma.
The call this morning had been difficult to make. He’d struggled with himself for most of two days, but finally gave it up as a no-win situation. It all boiled down to a simple choice: life with Emma or life without her. It was a no-brainer. He’d even try not to regret their night together. The ache it left behind wouldn’t be easing anytime soon. Keeping busy helped. The bike would help, too, if he decided to buy it. With the modifications he wanted it would cost him a bundle, but since he hadn’t shelled out a lot on a place to live it would balance out.
He looked around, not sure he remembered this street on the way to the dealership. Ah, there was a Chinese place that he’d noticed. Emma loved Chinese food, especially moo shoo pork. He should have asked her to dinner before bowling.
Bowling. There would be people there, her friends. Teachers probably, and there would be introductions. He’d be asked what he did, and it was difficult to imagine saying anything but pilot. He could say he was, and he wouldn’t be lying, but unless he ever got back in the cockpit, it would feel dishonest. He was an instructor. He’d get used to it.
At least Emma would be there to ease the way. She understood what his change of status meant to him, and he was pretty sure, after that faux pas about the picture the other day, that she’d handle the situation with grace.
God, he couldn’t wait to see her.
There was a school he recognized. And a couple of fast-food joints he’d stopped by. The base was getting closer, and he’d better focus on the meet
ing.
He wasn’t back on duty yet, but he would’ve been unhappy to miss this informal session with the other drone instructors. The program was still relatively new, unlike manned flight training. The biggest hurdle he’d face would be treating all his trainees as equals, whether they’d gotten their pilot’s license two years ago or flown fighter jets for ten years. His personal feelings had no place in his mission, and he would be damned if he let it influence him in any way.
But Sam also needed to adjust to his fellow instructors. They were all pilots, of course, but he’d wager most of them had come to Holloman because they wanted to be there. It would be interesting to read their attitudes as he gathered his first impressions. It didn’t help that the F-22 Raptors were also on the same base and that there was no place to hide from the sound of those engines.
Five minutes later he passed through the gates, then drove out to the RPA training ground, an auditorium that would hold the three-hundred-plus members of this class, classrooms that would hold approximately twenty trainees at a time, and most important, a collection of sand-colored trailers that were spread out near the runway and maintenance hangars. In the distance were the jagged hills that reminded Sam of the terrain of Afghanistan.
There was a parking lot reserved for instructors, but he was early, and there were only a few cars parked. The heat of the desert hit him when he started walking toward the hangar where the meeting would be held.
He saw Colonel Ed Stevens, the man responsible for Sam coming to Alamo as a drone instructor. With him were a major and two other captains, and they looked exactly like a group of pilots hanging out by their F-16s. No one here was going to look down on him because he wasn’t flying.
What he didn’t know but was sure to learn quickly was how the Raptor pilots and the Reaper instructors and pilots got along. Probably mixed as little as possible, if his own history was anything to go by.
