‘Wait, I have a briefing? What for?’
‘Hmm? Oh, the new infantry Commanding Officer replacing Colonel Waterson is arriving.’
‘Ah.’
Both women fell into a few seconds of respectful silence. They’d only met him once, but Colonel Waterson’s death had been a shock. Razorwire was in a non-combat environment, its task to help local communities rebuild and improve. But the former infantry colonel hadn’t been content to stay behind a desk and had flown out, on a spurious task, to a danger zone some six hundred miles away. His death had knocked the rest of the camp, not to mention rocked his own unit who were now being dragged into an internal investigation which, though standard, had the effect of further dragging down their already low morale.
Fliss could only hope that the arrival of their new Commanding Officer would help the infantry unit to heal. Not least because that particular infantry unit provided the protection units, or Quick Reaction Forces, for any other teams travelling outside of the camp, from logistics to her own medical team.
‘Anyway—’ Elle broke the silence firmly, both women knowing that, especially out here, far from home, it didn’t pay to dwell ‘—since the new colonel’s men form the four-man QRF teams we work with on a daily basis, Simon felt we should meet him.’
Fliss narrowed her eyes at her friend. She should have seen the set-up coming from the start.
‘And this CO, is he by any chance the all-singing, all-dancing Colonel Man Candy?’
‘Why, now you mention it—’ grinned Elle ‘—I do believe he is. Though I think you should wait for Simon to introduce you. I don’t know how the new colonel would react to you actually calling him Man Candy to his face.’
Fliss could only shake her head as her friend chortled with laughter. At the end of the day, she reasoned to herself, it was only a bit of fun between two friends. Man Candy was hardly going to make her go weak at the knees. The things she’d heard other women talk about had never happened to her; it just wasn’t who she was.
‘You’re a sneaky sod, do you know that? And anyway, if you really think someone who’s as allegedly dynamic as Man Candy is going to fall for an uptight wallflower like me, then maybe you’re the one who took a knock on the head.’
‘Piffle,’ Elle sputtered.
‘Piffle?’
‘You heard. You’ve never appreciated how attractive you are; everywhere you go there are guys just clamouring for attention but you never notice. You’re intelligent and wittier than you give yourself credit for, and definitely not a wallflower.’
Gratitude bloomed in Fliss like a thousand flowers suddenly opening their petals. What would she do without her uncle or Elle? They were the only two people she would ever trust. The only two people to whom she mattered. She didn’t need men like Robert; they didn’t offer her anything more than she already had.
‘You’re a good friend, Elle,’ Fliss said, suddenly serious.
‘That is true.’ Elle consulted her chunky sports watch. ‘You’d better go; briefing is in ten. Don’t forget what I said. Open mind, yes? What harm can it do?’
‘Fine.’ Fliss shoved her chair back and stood up, lodging an apple between her teeth as she picked up her tray to take to the clearing section. ‘But don’t hold your breath.’
Man Candy or not, she was never going to believe in love at first sight. It just wasn’t who she was.
* * *
‘Ah, you’re here.’ The medical Commanding Officer beamed with something approaching relief as Fliss was ushered in by the adjutant.
By the look on Simon’s face, the new colonel wasn’t quite as sweet as his nickname suggested. Stepping into the office, she turned to greet the new infantry colonel for the first time.
It was as if time caught a breath; everything happened in slow motion. Even the air felt as thick and sticky as the sweet honey she’d spread over her toast at breakfast. All Fliss could do was suck in a long breath and stare, her mind suddenly empty of anything but the man standing, dominating the space.
So this was Colonel Man Candy?
The nickname simply didn’t do him justice. It suggested sugar-coated and frivolous. This man was anything but.
He was tall, powerful and all hard edges more lethal than a bayonet on the end of a rifle. His uniform—sharp and crisp with that edge to it that seemed to mark infantrymen out over all other soldiers—did little to conceal the physique beneath. If anything, it enhanced it. The perfectly folded up shirtsleeves which clung lovingly to impressive biceps revealed equally strong, tanned forearms. But it wasn’t merely his forearms, more something about his demeanour which suggested to Fliss that he was a soldier who was used to physical exertion in the field. Certainly not the kind of man to relish being stuck behind a desk. He exuded a commanding air. Rough. Dangerous.
He was definitely more suited to an adrenalin-fuelled life on the front line than being stuck here in the safe confines of a place like Razorwire.
Abruptly, Fliss realised that even as she was assessing the Colonel, he was appraising her too. Narrowed eyes, the colour of mountain shale and just as inhospitable, slid over her. And everywhere they travelled, they left a scorching sensation on her skin. She wanted to move, to say something. Instead she stood rooted to the spot, her throat tight and her heart pounding out a military tattoo in her chest.
Something unfurled in the pit of Fliss’s stomach. Something which she didn’t recognise at all but which made her feel the need to regroup. Something which scared her, yet was also perhaps a little thrilling. And then it was gone, so fast that she wondered if she hadn’t simply imagined it.
Slowly, she became aware of Simon speaking with a forced cheerfulness, as though he could sense the undertones but couldn’t compute them.
‘Colonel, this is Major Felicity Delaunay, the trauma doctor who leads one of our primary MERT crews,’ Simon introduced her, referring to the Medical Emergency Response Team which flew out from the camp in helicopters to retrieve casualties from outside the wire.
‘Major, let me introduce Colonel Asher Stirling, the new CO replacing the late Colonel Waterson.’
‘Colonel,’ Fliss choked out, finally finding her voice as she proffered her hand, relieved to see that it wasn’t shaking.
The new Colonel didn’t take it. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest in a very deliberate move.
‘Major Delaunay,’ he bit out. ‘So you’re the doc who thinks she’s so important she’s risking the safety of my men, not to mention the rest of her own crew.’
His hostile glower pinned her in place. She wanted to snatch her own gaze away but found she couldn’t. He was too mesmerising.
Still, a defiant flame flickered into life inside her.
‘Would you care to elaborate, sir?’
She made a point of emphasising the acknowledgement of his superior rank. She didn’t like what he was suggesting, but she had no intention of being accused of insubordination as well.
‘I’m saying your position is on the helicopter, receiving incoming casualties and staying where my men can protect you.’
His voice was deep, his tone peremptory. And Fliss didn’t just hear the words, she felt them too. Compression waves coursed through her whole being. He didn’t just have the rank of a colonel, he oozed it. Authoritative and all-consuming. She had never reacted so innately to anyone—to any man—before. She hadn’t even known it was possible to do so.
She was vaguely aware of Simon attempting to interject but it felt as though there were only the two of them in the room. The CO soon faded out, making some spurious excuse and dashing for the door.
‘Is this about the incident last week when I had to leave the heli to attend a casualty?’
‘As I understand it, not just last week, no,’ the new Colonel continued coldly. ‘My men are there to protect yo
u...’
‘They’re there to protect the helicopter, the asset,’ she cut in.
Waves of tightly controlled fury bounced off him.
‘They are tasked to protect you, but I understand you make that impossible for them on a regular basis. Yet if anything were to happen to you, my men would be responsible.’
‘Your men...’
She stopped and bit her lip, her sense of self-preservation finally kicking in. He clearly only had half the story and if he thought she was just going to stand there without setting the record straight then he could think again. But as much as this dressing-down galled her, she refused to speak badly of his men. They’d been through enough.
Straightening her spine, she jutted her chin out to give the impression she wasn’t intimidated. Instead, it only reminded her just how close to each other they were standing. White heat snaked through her. She had a feeling that when this man spoke, people listened. But Fliss forced herself to push it to the side, forced herself to wonder if he was equally capable of listening.
She was about to find out.
‘Your men are feeling understandably uptight right now, and I appreciate that you’re only looking out for your new unit, but there are two sides to this story, Colonel.’
‘And you’re about to enlighten me?’
It was phrased as a question but the gravelly sound resonated through her, pulling her stomach impossibly taut. This was it. She’d challenged him and now she was going to have to back it up. Either that, or he would dismiss her as weak for ever.
She gritted her teeth but refused to back down. That wasn’t what her uncle had ever taught her. And, besides, a terrible part of her desperately wanted this man’s respect. His esteem.
‘I understand that you’ve recently been promoted to colonel, and that you were a major on the front line before that, so this is a new unit for you, and these are men that you don’t know well yet. I appreciate that you’re only looking out for them after what happened with Colonel Waterson. He was their CO and it was a shock to them. But it was a shock to us all. Razorwire isn’t in a warzone; we have a different mission to whatever we’ve had before. Whatever you’ve had before, on the front line.’
‘And your point, Major?’ he demanded impatiently.
‘My point, Colonel, is that your men—my QRF—are jumpy at the moment. I know why—a helicopter is a big target for anyone on the ground with rocket launchers, and the QRF don’t want us to hang around too long. But we’re not in a warzone, Colonel. We’re on a Hearts and Minds mission and I think your men have forgotten that in the wake of Colonel Waterson’s death. They never had a problem with my getting off the heli before, and they won’t again in a few weeks. And the reason I jump off is because the casualties who can’t get to the heli in time might not make it if we just abandon them.’
There it was, she noted triumphantly.
The flash in his eyes suggested her words had hit home. She’d suspected that, of all people, this new Colonel wasn’t the type to leave a fallen man behind. And she was right; he’d reacted as soon as she’d said the word abandon.
Still, he clearly wasn’t about to give in that easily. And that didn’t surprise her.
‘My men informed me that the casualties weren’t in immediate danger.’
‘With all due respect, sir, your men aren’t trauma doctors. I am. Just because there are no bombs out here, no IEDs, with fatalities and casualties requiring multiple amputations, doesn’t mean there aren’t urgent cases.’
‘I am well aware of that, Major,’ he ground out, his eyes drilling into her. ‘I’ve carried a fair few men to a MERT over the years.’
‘Yes, but usually from the front line, I understand. Out here, we have non-combat injuries to deal with, from Road Traffic Accidents to local kids in gas bottle explosions around their home, from peace-keeping troops with appendicitis to local women in labour requiring emergency medical intervention. It might not always look fatal to your battle-hardened troops but fatality comes in less obvious guises. And I made a judgement call each time.’
And she’d been right each time too, not that she was about to offer that information up. It would have far greater impact when the Colonel found that out for himself. And she knew without a doubt that he would.
‘Indeed?’ The Colonel raised his eyebrows at her.
His mind was not entirely swayed but he was clearly considering her position. She suppressed a thrill of pleasure. It was a victory of sorts. And all the sweeter because, for a second there, she’d almost lost herself to a side of her character she had never before known existed. A side which wasn’t immune—as she had so long believed—to the tedious and feeble vagaries of an instant physical attraction.
But she had fought it, and she had won. Hopefully she’d managed to convince the new Colonel to get his men to back off for the last few weeks of her tour of duty and, with him being infantry and her being medical, there was no reason she’d have to see him again.
Relief mingled with something else which Fliss didn’t care to identify.
It was all short-lived.
He stepped in closer, almost menacingly so, and instinctively her eyes widened a fraction, her breath growing shallower.
He picked up on it immediately, but it was only when his eyes dropped instantly to her rapidly rising and falling chest, his nostrils flaring as she heard his sharp intake of breath, that Fliss realised he was as affected by her as she was by him.
Her? The girl Brody Gordon had referred to as Fusty Fliss? Attracting a guy as utterly masculine as the Colonel? It hardly seemed possible.
And then she realised what this uncharacteristic moment of weakness was all about for her. It wasn’t some incredible, irresistible attraction at all. It was merely the fact that Robert’s rejection had exposed unhealed wounds from her past which she had scarcely buried beneath the surface. Old rejections and feelings of inadequacy that her mother, her grandparents and boys like Brody Gordon had cruelly instigated.
She wanted to pull away from the Colonel now, use the revelation to her advantage. But it seemed that even knowing the truth wasn’t helping her to resist him. He pinned her down, his eyes locked with hers, inching forward until they were toe to toe and her head was tilted right up to hold the stare. For several long seconds Fliss was sure she stopped breathing.
And then, finally, he broke the spell.
‘I must say, Major, my interest is piqued.’ The fierce expression had lifted from his rough-hewn face to be replaced by a look which was simultaneously wicked and challenging. White heat licked low in her belly.
‘I understand your next forty-eight-hour shift begins at oh-six-hundred tomorrow?’
‘That’s right,’ she acknowledged carefully, a sense of foreboding brewing in the tiny office.
‘Good. Then I’ll accompany you for the first twenty-four hours and we’ll see what we discover, shall we?’
Her whole body shivered.
‘You can’t do that; you don’t have the authority. You’re not my commanding officer. You’re not even medical.’
‘No—’ he seemed unfazed ‘—but I am the CO of the infantry unit which provides your protection unit and, since they are my guys, I do have a reason to be on that heli. I hardly think your buddy Simon is going to object when I run it by him. Do you?’
‘It’s my heli, my run. I could tell my CO it wouldn’t be appropriate.’
She was grasping at straws and they both knew it. The wicked smile cranked up a notch, and so did the fire burning low in her core. He dropped his voice to a husky rasp which seemed to graze her body as surely as if he’d run callused fingers over the sensitive skin of her belly.
‘And on what grounds exactly are you going to object?’
He had a point; she could hardly tell Simon that she didn’t want to be in clos
e confinement on a heli with the new infantry CO because there was an inexplicable chemistry between them that, when she was around him, made her body heat up and her brain shut down.
She was trapped and they both knew it. Worse, Fliss was left with the distinct impression that a tiny part of her actually liked it.
Clenching her fists and spinning around as Simon finally bustled back into the room, Fliss studiously ignored the terrifying voice which whispered that the truth was, she just might have experienced her very first lust at first sight.
CHAPTER TWO
CROUCHED IN THE corner of the cramped, sweltering, noisy Chinook—kitted out as a full airborne emergency room, its engines the only thing one could smell or hear—Ash fought down the nausea which was threatening to overwhelm him.
He’d seen the MERT in action too many times to count during his seven tours of duty over the last decade, several back to back. He had an incredible respect for the doctors and medics who ran what was, essentially, an airborne operating room. Many of his men, his friends, were still alive today because of the swift, skilled actions of MERT teams. But although he’d carried many casualties to the heli as part of the infantry team on the ground, the only time he’d actually been on board had been when he himself had been seriously injured.
Ash kept his eyes firmly open. If he closed them, the sounds were too brutally familiar. If he closed them, the scents, the turbulence, transported him right back to that day. If he closed them, he could almost feeling his life ebbing away.
Instead, he studiously watched the attractive blonde major who was running this flying operating room with impressive command and focus. Even now she was diligently prepping any last pieces of equipment. He could imagine her as the focused, methodical doctor, but he still couldn’t imagine her ever breaking the rules to save a soldier, the way his new unit had claimed she’d done on more than one occasion.
But that wasn’t the reason he was here, was it?
From the minute she’d walked into that room yesterday, she’d somehow slipped under his skin and he’d found himself reacting to her in a way that made him feel out of control. And for Ash it was all about being in control. About not allowing himself to feel. Because feeling meant being at the mercy of emotions. And that wasn’t something he permitted.
Encounter with a Commanding Officer Page 2
